


Ink & Ivy

by ToBebbanburg



Series: Ink & Ivy Modern AU [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, These boys switch, and just imagine nicky and nile surrounded by a fuck ton of plants, because, cliche trap, florist tattoo shop au, like a pendulum, mild spanking, not explicit now but will be later, side Nile and Booker, slight dom!Nicky, well I like tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBebbanburg/pseuds/ToBebbanburg
Summary: Florist Nicky? Tattoo artist Joe? It's more likely than you'd think. Brought to you by thirst for Marwan Kenzari's thigh tattoos.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Ink & Ivy Modern AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955659
Comments: 454
Kudos: 1031





	1. Chapter 1

Nicky had never meant to become a florist. He had wanted to open a cafe, maybe even a bistro, but he hadn’t counted on becoming emotionally attached to a load of plants that had belonged to a woman he’d never even met. 

“The poor thing died, quite suddenly.” The estate agent had said with tasteless cheer as she showed Nicky around the shop that he was pretty sure had been plant free in the website photos. “This florist shop was her life’s work.”

“Oh.” Nicky had said, almost mournfully as he looked around at the slowly shrivelling plants that seemed to fill every inch of the space. He felt more than a little bad at the idea of throwing some old woman’s pride and joy away to make way for his own ambitions, especially when most of the plants still had a little life in them yet. He should keep them alive until he found new owners for them, at the very least.

“Don’t worry, she didn’t die here. Probably.” The agent said, misinterpreting the reason for Nicky’s hesitation. “But look- once that ficus there is gone, that would be the perfect place for an oven, don’t you think?”

Ultimately, Nicky had kept the plants (though he had at least managed to find the heart to throw away those that were beyond saving, along with the bundles of wilted flowers that couldn’t be passed off as being artfully dried). The result was a charmingly eclectic cafe-cum-florists, where customers who only came in for a coffee often left with a small succulent or two, and those who came in to buy bouquets for their beaus more often than not also came away with a slice of cake.

Plants had never been Nicky’s strongest suit, but over the last couple of years he had learnt both to love them and learnt how to keep them alive for more than a week. He had been helped at the start by Sebastien, or Booker as he preferred to be called, who owned the second-hand bookstore next door and had gifted him the rather aptly titled “Idiot’s Guide to Gardening”.

He received better help later in the form of Nile, an art history student who helped him out between her university work. Nicky had been surprised to find she was an ex-marine, but on reflection it explained her sheer determination to work long shifts in the shop and her chipper attitude to mornings. He himself always needed a helping hand to get going in the morning, whether it was a strong cup of coffee or an injection of Nile’s energy by proxy.

It was one morning, late in the autumn, when he was fully woken up by an unexpected third option: a cacophony of shouts and bangs coming from a removal van stopped on the other side of the street. The shop opposite Nicky’s had, until fairly recently, been a hair salon, until a scandalous event (that was to this day only mentioned in hushed whispers) had seen the owner flee both the city and the country. Part of Nicky wanted to go out and investigate who was moving into the shop, but the part of him that won out reasoned that it’d only be louder outside, and he wasn’t quite ready for that amount of noise just yet.

The noise thankfully lessened as the morning went on, and when lunchtime came round the removal men finished up and finally left. This was a relief: several of Nicky’s regulars were of the age where hearing was difficult even without ridiculous amounts of background noise, and at one point he’d been reduced to pointing at each menu on the item in turn waiting for the old man in front of him to nod when he reached what he wanted.

Nile arrived for her shift shortly after the lunch rush had finished, bringing her usual enthusiasm along with news of their new neighbour. Nicky was assessing a fading anthurium, which seemed determined to die no matter what he tried: he was one bad day away from giving up and throwing it in the compost bin. Nile dropped her various notebooks down on one of the tables then hovered behind Nicky expectantly, waiting for him to turn around.

“Have you _seen_ the guy who’s just moved in?” she asked without preamble, staring at him with a look of barely restrained excitement.

“Hmm?” Nicky raised an eyebrow as he turned round. She was grinning, looking at him expectantly.

“I take that as a no then.” Nile perched herself on the table in order to retie her trainers as she talked. “If you’d seen him, you’d _know_.”

“That good?”

“More than good. Nicky, he’s gorgeous.”

“Did you talk to him? Maybe he’s single.” Nicky turned his attention back to the anthurium.

“Well, yes, I spoke to him, but I was thinking more of you really.” Nile said as she pulled her laces tight. “How long’s it been since your last date? A couple of months?”

“Three, but that doesn’t mean I’m desperate enough to throw myself at the first new face around here.” Nicky chastised her. He could get a date if he really wanted, he was simply bored of dating apps, and chatting up customers just wasn’t right. Andy and Quynh, his friend who owned a bar several streets away had offered to set him up with someone but the truth was, he was fine on his own.

“If you threw yourself at him, he’d catch you.” Nile said earnestly as she jumped off the table. “Kind eyes, but strong arms. Totally your type.”

“I’ll bear that in mind next time I need to faint.” Nicky said dryly, but with a hint of amusement.

“Well you don’t have to make a move on him, but at least go _look_ at him. Say hi.” Nile urged. “It’s the neighbourly thing to do.”

She had a point: Booker had looked out for Nicky when he first started up here, and Nicky should do the same for the man across the road. Plus, with the removal men gone, he could offer a free coffee without risk of bankrupting himself.

“Alright.” He said, untying his apron. “But only because it’s the neighbourly thing to do.”

He ignored Nile’s smug look of satisfaction as he left his shop and crossed the street, glad that whoever had moved in had left the door open. He rapped his knuckles against the door as he entered, hovering in the doorway. The man had his back to the door, unpacking what looked like a collection of framed drawings from a cardboard box. Perhaps he was opening an art gallery?

Nicky cleared his throat: “Hi.” He said.

The man turned around, a smile on his face, and all Nicky could think of was Nile’s earlier assessment of “gorgeous”. He couldn’t even quite put his finger on _why_ , exactly, as every little thing about the man seemed designed to bypass Nicky’s higher brain functions. His wonderfully curly hair. His neatly trimmed beard. His deep brown eyes and the crinkles around them formed by the smile that lit up his whole face.

“Hi,” The man replied, “I’m Joe. Just moved in, obviously.” He carefully put down the box he was holding and walked towards Nicky, hand outstretched.

“Hi.” Nicky repeated, then mentally shook himself. “Nicky,” he said, taking Joe’s hand, “I own the cafe across the road.”

“Ah, so you’re Nile’s boss. She told me you had a florist shop.” Joe sounded more interested than confused.

“It’s a cafe and a florists. Two for one.” Nicky laughed weakly, uncomfortably aware of how ridiculous his business model sounded when said out loud. To his relief Joe laughed with him.

“I like it. Economical. I feel like I’m missing out now, I have just the one business.”

“Oh?” Nicky asked, curious as to what lay in all the boxes stacked around the shop.

“Believe it or not, once all of this is unpacked and set up it’ll be a tattoo parlour.”

Out of everything Nicky had thought of, tattoo parlour had not been one of them.

“Oh.” Nicky said again, this time out of surprise. “Sorry, I’d assumed it would be an art gallery or something.” He gestured over to the box of drawings.

“Ah, those. Those _were_ just for decoration, but maybe I should follow your idea and open my own two-in-one.” Joe’s eyes seemed to twinkle as he spoke, and Nicky had to remind himself why he had come over in the first place.

“Well I can’t wait to see it when it’s all set up.” He said with a smile. “But in the meantime, I came to see if you’d like a drink to help you unpack. On me, of course.”

Joe’s grin somehow grew even wider.

“Thanks, I’d love that.”

“Coffee? Tea?” _Me?_ Nicky’s traitorous brain wanted to add.

“A cappuccino would be great, thanks.” Joe said. “Let me just get my keepcup.”

Great. Nicky thought. Handsome _and_ environmentally conscious. Nile was right, Joe was totally his type. He had to stop himself from staring as Joe bent over to rummage in another box for his cup, and was thankful he found it soon. Joe's trousers were _very_ well fitted.

“Be right back.” Nicky said quickly when Joe handed him the cup, and hurried back across the road before he could get mesmerised by Joe’s smile again.

“So?” Nile looked up at Nicky expectantly as soon as he stepped through the door. He sighed.

“You’re right. He’s gorgeous.”

Nile grinned. “I knew it.”

*****

It had become a tradition for Nicky, Nile and Booker to visit The Old Guard every Thursday: the pub was much less crowded mid-week, and besides, Nile often had university socials on Friday evenings and neither Nicky or Booker felt right going without her.

The Guard was owned by two of Nicky’s greatest friends, Andy and Quynh, a married couple who had taken Nicky under their wings when he had first moved to the city. He had wandered in for a drink, ended up fixing their broken espresso machine, and left with Quynh’s declaration that he was the only man she would ever trust (it took Booker several months before she said the same about him). They’d become close after that, the two women offering Nicky advice on setting up his own business, and now a couple of years on from opening his shop they still liked to brag about how his success was down to their tutelage. He didn’t mind: they were mostly right.

Nile wasted no time that Thursday in telling them both about their new neighbour.

“Oh I know Joe, he’s my tattoo artist.” Quynh said mildly, massaging Andy’s shoulders as she diligently poured pints for them all. “I was the one who told him about the shop.I didn’t realised he’d already moved in.”

“You know Joe? Hey Nicky, Quynh knows Joe. Nicky likes Joe.” Nile said, rather unhelpfully.

“I’ve just met him Nile. He’s handsome and he seems nice but that’s it.” Nicky said wearily.

“He’s a good guy.” Quynh said, her hands moving down from Andy’s shoulders to her back as her wife slide the beers across the bar. “Definitely your type, Nicky. Sensitive, but strong.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nile said smugly. “The perfect man. For Nicky.” She added hurriedly. Nicky couldn’t help but notice a brief flicker of panic in Booker’s eyes that was gone as quickly as Nile’s clarification.

“He’s one of the only men I trust.” Quynh said wistfully, her hands dropping even lower on Andy until they were playfully smacked away.

“Speaking of the few men we trust, how’s the grand opening coming along, Book?” Andy asked.

Booker took a long drink from his glass.

“Slowly.” He said. “I still need to finish painting the room but at least I’ve got enough stock now.”

Booker was renovating the back room of his bookshop with the goal of opening an LGBT section. He’d been talked into the idea whilst blind drunk a couple of months ago, and had surprised them all by sticking with the idea once sober.

“You have an artist in your midst now.” Quynh prompted, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m sure Joe would be willing to help out.”

“No.” Booker vetoed the idea. “I’m not having you lock Nicky and Joe in my back room in the hopes something will happen.”

“Been reading the literature, Book?” Andy laughed. Booker swore into his beer.

“I’ll help paint if you like.” Nicky offered, at the same time as Nile said the same thing.

“There we go. Sorted.” Andy told Quynh. “So no meddling.” She punctuated her words with gentle pokes to Quynh’s shoulder.

“No meddling.” Quynh promised, holding her hands up. “But really, Nicky, he’s a lovely guy, so thoughtful and-“

“Please stop.” Nicky leant his head on the bar and covered his ears with his hands.

“Wonderful hair.” Nile added leaning in.

“Nimble fingers.” Quynh carried on, prising one of Nicky's hands away to whisper in his ear.

Nicky groaned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot advancement? Hell no. Mutual pining? Oh yes.

Nile liked to call Nicky 'an old soul' to annoy him. It was due in part to the time she had invited him and Booker round to her flat and he'd brought his own slippers, but it was also due to his complete lack of awareness when it came to social media. It wasn’t that Nicky had anything against it in particular, it was just that it wasn’t particularly for him. He didn’t have a single account to his name, and the only concession he made to his stance was when Nile had joined and convinced him to let her set up and run an instagram page for the shop. She was good good at it, to her credit, effortlessly taking perfectly framed photos and posting them with fun and snappy captions that would take Nicky hours to compose on his own. He would scroll through the feed occasionally to see what she’d been up to, and on Friday morning before opening he was sat doing just that.

The first image he saw was of Joe.

It was a photo of him at work, his usual smile gone in favour of a look of pure concentration as he held his needle to his customer’s arm. It must have been an old photo, taken in the summer, as Joe had felt it necessary to wear a form-fitting vest and a pair of artfully frayed jean shorts. Nicky found his eyes repeatedly drawn along Joe’s exposed arms, from the muscles of his shoulders all the way down to his gloved hands. It was a perfectly innocent photo of an artist at work and yet it hit Nicky like a punch to the gut. No one should look that good when they weren’t even _trying_ to pose.

He noticed, belatedly, that the woman Joe was working on was Quynh, and that the photo had been posted from The Old Guard’s account.

_Master tattooist Joe al-Kaysani has just opened his new shop near us! You may recognise his beautiful work from the arms of yours truly. To help #supportlocalbusinesses we’re offering half price drinks for those freshly inked @SunSpotTattoo ~ Q_

If the photo had been from anyone else Nicky would have passed it off as friendly promotion, but as it came from the account Quynh ran Nicky had a sinking feeling that the meddling had begun.

He closed instagram down and briefly shut his eyes. This was fine. He could do this. He was an adult, and as an adult he was perfectly capable of going about his life acknowledging that the man across the road was jaw-droppingly handsome and not letting it consume his every waking moment.

He opened his eyes and yawned. He just needed another coffee to get his mind back on track, he was sure. He glanced idly across the street and noticed the tattoo parlour wasn’t open yet. Maybe Joe wasn’t a morning person either. Or maybe he was, and he was one of those people who got up horrifically early to go for a run. Perhaps-

Damn it. This was all Quynh’s fault.

*****

Joe was, in fact, very much not a morning person either, but unlike Nicky he was in the fortunate position where most of his clients preferred to book appointments in the late morning onwards. The discovery that the florist shop across from him was also a cafe had therefore been a wonderful delight, as Joe decided he could allow himself another extra 20 minutes in bed and simply grab coffee and hopefully some sort of breakfast from there to eat in his shop. Joe could tell he’d be spending a lot of money there, and not just because he valued his sleep: the owner had the most striking pair of blue/grey eyes he had ever seen, and Joe was not above admitting that he was a sucker for men with piercing eyes.

Joe was reminded just how much of a sucker he was when he was stood in front of those beautiful eyes, and decided he just couldn’t face taking breakfast to go. If there was one thing better than coffee for waking oneself up in the morning, he reasoned, it was conversation, and he should really make an effort to get to know his new neighbour after all. He ordered a flat white and a slice of frittata and made sure to pick the table near to where Nicky was methodically working his way through snipping a pile of flower stems.

“What came first then?” he asked as he stabbed his fork into the frittata.

“It depends what you’re talking about.” Nicky looked up from his flowers, those clear eyes of his narrowed slightly in a look of adorable confusion.

“This.” Joe waved around the room. “Did you open a cafe then branch out into plants?”

“Oh.” Nicky’s brow relaxed. “The plants were here when I started to rent the place. The previous owner died and I thought it was only respectful to try and at least sell her remaining plants instead of throwing them all out.”

“So what happened?”

“I got attached.” Nicky said with a rueful smile. “And so many people said how happy they were I was continuing her work, I couldn’t let them down. It didn’t even feel right to change the name, I just added the word ‘Cafe’ after ‘The Terrarium’.”

Joe ate the rest of his frittata in quiet contemplation of the man in front of him. A cruel person would have thought Nicky a sap for that, but Joe was far from cruel and the fact that Nicky had accidentally adopted a florists was ridiculously endearing. Beautiful eyes, a kind heart, and a damn good cook on top of that. Yes, Joe would certainly be spending a lot of money here.

“What time do you open?” Nicky asked suddenly. “Or is today your day off?”

“10, why… oh.” Joe checked his watch. 10:12. Oh dear. He looked out of the window and was relieved that there didn’t appear to be anyone waiting outside his shop, but jumped to his feet all the same.

“I’d better go.” He said, shrugging his jacket on. “Do you want me to put my plate anywhere or-”

“I’ll get it.” Nicky said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “That’s generally how cafe’s work.”

“Yeah, of course. Right.” Joe felt a bit foolish. “Well. See you around.”

“Ciao.”

Just as Joe crossed the street his phone buzzed with a text, and he fished it out one-handed to read as he unlocked the door.

_Hope your first day goes well! Come by for a drink after and tell me all about it. PS you should try out the coffee at the place opposite you sometime, I think you’ll appreciate it ;)_

Quynh. Joe shook his head and laughed to himself as he typed his reply.

_Am I really that predictable?_

The reply came back almost immediately:

_Yes. But that’s why we love you._

*****

Joe made a habit of coming to The Terrarium Cafe every morning after that, and to Nicky’s amusement still never managed to open his shop on time. It didn’t matter whether he ate in, or just took a coffee away: he always got sidetracked either talking to Nicky, Nile, or one of the other customers.

“Maybe I need to force myself to get up a bit earlier.” He had mused one morning after Nicky gently pointed out that yet again, it had gone 10 without him noticing.

The next day he showed up an hour early, stifling a yawn and clutching a sketchpad in one hand. He was running a hand through his curls in an attempt to get them to lie flat, but eventually decided it was a lost cause. Nicky rather liked it: Joe somehow managed to look better than most men even when half asleep and with an impressive case of bed-head.

“I would like the strongest coffee imaginable please.” He asked as he slumped into what had quickly become his usual chair. “And some sort of breakfast.”

“Some sort of breakfast?” Nile asked, trying very hard to suppress a giggle at the usually composed Joe struggling to stay coherent at _9am._

“Anything.” Joe replied, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

Nile exchanged a look with Nicky and shrugged.

“Almond croissant?” Nicky suggested.

“Perfect.” Joe muttered, looking one second away from falling straight back to sleep.

Nile snickered then dutifully plated up the croissant for Joe, who cracked his eyes open a fraction when she placed it in front of him then went back to his rest. He only opened his eyes for good when Nicky brought his coffee over, and gave him a smile that was far too large for one so tired.

“Thank you.” He said earnestly. “You’re an angel.”

“And you’re not fully awake yet.” Nicky replied with a grin.

As Joe drank his coffee he gradually woke up, and he began to sketch the plants around him with growing enthusiasm. He drew them in a variety of styles, from shaded almost botanical studies to simple outlines that still perfectly conveyed the plant they represented. He sketched, and doodled, and ordered another coffee, and Nicky had to try very hard to concentrate on reading through his emails and not get distracted by watching Joe work. He had almost managed to go a whole minute without looking over at where Joe sat when Joe called out to him and ruined everything.

“Nic-olò.” Joe sang Nicky’s name softly to get his attention. It worked. Nicky’s head whipped round, the order form in front of him forgotten.

“How did you know my real name?” He asked, shocked both by the fact that Joe knew his full name and how _good_ it sounded in Joe’s voice.

“It’s on your instagram.” Joe shrugged.

Nile. Nicky would have to start vetting her posts.

“It’s nice, I like it.” Joe added, his voice earnest.

“Thanks.” Nicky said, turning back to his laptop in an attempt to hide the effect Joe calling his name had had on him, before remembering Joe had likely called his name for a reason. “Sorry, can I get you anything?” He asked.

“Nope.” Joe shook his head. “I just wanted to try ‘Nicolò’ out.”

It was an utterly ridiculous thing to say. Nicky loved it.

“What about Joe, then?” He asked, order form well and truly forgotten. “Short for Joseph I assume?”

“For some.” Joe said. “My real name is Yusuf, but, y’know.” He gestured vaguely around at nothing in particular. Nicky did know. There were very few people he’d met since coming to the UK who could be bothered calling him Nicolò, or even Nico. In the end he’d given up trying.

But Yusuf. It was better, in a way. He’d known several Joe’s in his lifetime, but there was only one Yusuf. He said it out loud, wondering how it would sound in his voice.

“Yes?” Joe jokingly answered.

“Just trying it out.” Nicky replied, and Joe laughed.

From over Joe’s shoulder Nile formed a heart with her fingers, grinning at him, then she tapped the non-existent watch on her wrist. Joe caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned round, and Nile had the good grace to look a little guilty.

“You’ve got carried away again.” She told him, and Joe gave an exaggerated groan.

“So much for getting up early.” He grumbled as he flipped the cover of his sketchbook closed.

“There are such things as alarms.” Nicky pointed out.

“But why be alerted by something as harsh as an alarm when I have you two as a much better alternative?” Joe winked at Nile at that, and she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“You’re a grown man, _Yusuf_ ; we’re not your parents.”

“What a terrible thought.” Joe said softly, and Nicky could have sworn his gaze lingered on him for a second longer than it needed to. His heart jumped.

“'Til tomorrow then.” Joe called out brightly as he left, and Nicky had to take a deep breath to compose himself. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted Joe to start making his 9am visits a regular occurrence: on the one hand, Nicky counted himself lucky every minute Joe was in his shop. On the other… he could feel himself well and truly falling for Joe, falling for his sleepy smiles and easy laughs and the way he said ‘Nicolò’ as though it was the only name that mattered.

“So when’re you gonna ask him out?” Nile asked as the door swung shut behind Joe, brutally snapping Nicky out of his thoughts.

“I think… well maybe… no?” Nicky tried. “He’s a regular customer now, it would be inappropriate.”

“Riiiight.” Nile rolled her eyes. “I’ll come back to you in a week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me next time for painting, backwards baseball caps, and spider plants that won't stop creating new tiny spider plants oh god there's so many of them, stop, no one needs or wants this many spider plants
> 
> I'm on tumblr, @tobebbanburg if you're into that kinda thing


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3, in which Joe thinks everything is going great and Nicky thinks everything is going terribly. They are both correct.

A week on from Nicky’s insistence that he’d wouldn’t ask a customer out and he was regretting everything. Joe’s early starts were thankfully not an everyday occurrence, but he’d done it twice since and Nicky’s resolve was beginning to crack. He could just about cope with regular, post-coffee Joe, but sleepy Joe with his messy hair and yawns that took over his entire body was too much. Nicky was overcome with the primal urge to wrap him in a blanket and snuggle against him.

“Should we get some blankets in here do you think?” Nicky mused to Nile one day. “It will get cold soon, it could be cosy.”

“We could.” Nile replied. “Or you could just ask Joe out and burrito him in blankets behind closed doors somewhere private.”

Nicky humphed and turned his focus back to the batch of focaccia he was making. The sensible thing to do, as Nile kept telling him, was to get the whole ordeal out of the way and just ask Joe out. If he agreed, great, and if he let him down then at least they were early enough in their acquaintance that they could hopefully move past it with minimal awkwardness. The one thing that Nile hadn’t accounted for was that Nicky would much prefer to suffer in silence than risk making Joe feel uncomfortable, an outcome he had convinced himself was the most likely.

Yes, Joe smiled at him and complimented his cooking and always made an effort to chat to him, but Joe did the same with _everyone_. He got on just as easily with Nile, swapping opinions on art and suggestions on galleries to visit with the same enthusiasm that he talked to random customers with as they mingled in the shop. He could all too easily imagine that every look Joe gave him, every question he asked was intended as flirtation, but that was just it. He was imagining it. No, Joe was just a naturally charming person who probably didn’t even realise the effect he had had on Nicky, and would most likely be mortified if he had thought he’d accidentally led Nicky on.

So Nicky said nothing, and tried to push all untoward thoughts about Joe from his mind. Which was exceedingly hard when every little thing Joe did set off fireworks in his brain.

“Nile, he’s wearing a baseball cap. A _backwards_ baseball cap.” Nicky said later that same day with a groan. There were certain points in the shop that offered him a direct view across the road into Joe’s tattoo parlour, where the man in question was currently bent over the arm of a customer, his curls held back from his forehead by a backwards cap of all things.

“Is that good? Bad?” Nile teased as she came over to join him.

“Both.” Nicky said, trying to force his attention back to the shrub he was supposed to be pruning.

“I know you say you don’t want to ask a customer out,” Nile started, “but Booker says he’s single and a guy like Joe isn’t going to be single for long so…”

“ _Booker’s_ been talking to him?” Nicky was surprised. It wasn’t like the Frenchman to make idle chitchat.

“He’s trying to be more sociable.” Nile said over her shoulder as she moved back to the kitchen. “Though I get the impression Joe did most of the talking.”

That sounded more like it. It wasn’t that Joe set out to dominate conversations- on the contrary, he was always eager to hear others’ opinions and would clam up if anyone so much as looked like they wanted to say something, but he always had a lot to say himself. He was the only person Nicky knew who could make talking about the weather interesting. He could listen to Joe for hours.

“Did I hear our Sebastien is trying to be more sociable?” Andy asked as she walked through the door, immediately jumping into the conversation when most other people would have said a simple ‘hello’ in greeting.

“I think ‘trying’ is the operative word there.” Nicky said dryly, finally turning away from the shrub (and Joe).

“Well he can start by replying to my emails about his grand opening and maybe not mysteriously vanishing on a smoke break every time I try to drop by.” Andy pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead and leant on the counter. “One macchiato, one chai latte, and a couple of slices of that panettone.” She told Nile.

“Two?” Nile asked as she lifted the glass dome off the cake stand. “It’s not the chocolate one.”

“Just one then.” Andy corrected her order. “Nicky, seriously, you have to make that chocolate one again.”

“If the bar would like to place an order...” Nicky placed his secateurs down and made his way over to the coffee machine.

“Maybe it will.” Andy said, somehow making the prospect of custom sound like a threat.

“Well then, I’d be happy to oblige.” Nicky said with the trace of a smile playing on his lips. “The flapjacks have chocolate chips in today though. And pistachio.” He added, and Andy grinned.

“You’ve just about redeemed yourself.” She told him as she counted out a handful of change for Nile.

“We’re going to do the painting tonight, so I’ll get Booker to text you then.” Nile promised as she took the money and slipped Andy’s flapjack into a paper bag. “He’s just stressed about the opening, and his kids are coming to stay in a few weeks.”

“Thanks Nile.” Andy said warmly. “Have fun doing Booker’s manual labour for him tonight.”

She snapped her sunglasses back down into place and picked up her purchases, precariously balancing a cake and a coffee in each hand in a way that would end in disaster for anyone other than Andy. She kicked open the door then paused, her foot keeping it propped open.

“I almost forgot: Quynh said Joe’s been roped into helping tonight too.” She left, and even the sound of the door slamming behind her wasn’t enough to jolt Nicky from his shocked state. His friends were the worst.

*****

As a child, Joe’s mother had always joked that he could make friends with anyone if they stood still in his vicinity for more than a minute. He would chatter away and ask questions with an unassuming charm that luckily always managed to seem endearing rather than precocious, and if his family had thought he’d grow out of it with time they were proved wrong.

It was this exact friendly nature and willingness to help out that saw Joe offering to help paint Booker’s new room a mere five minutes after meeting the man. Another five minutes after that and the two made weekend plans to watch the football together in the pub. Five minutes on top of that, Joe realised he had only meant to stop by to introduce himself and that he should really be getting back to his shop.

Booker had neglected to mention that Nicky and Nile were also going to help paint, but when the two of them showed up a mere minute after he did it was the nicest surprise Joe had had since… well, since Nicky had appeared in his shop a few weeks ago with the offer of coffee.

Nicky dressed for painting was, adorably, the exact same as Nicky dressed every day (though on closer inspection the grey tshirt he was wearing _was_ slightly more worn than the others Joe had seen him in). Nile, on the other hand, somehow managed to make a baggy fun-run top tucked into a pair of tracksuit trousers look like the height of fashion, and she came with a notebook full of doodles and ideas for the walls.

Booker had given them free reign over what to paint in the room with the only stipulation that it “doesn’t look shit”, and Joe enthusiastically skimmed through Nile's various sketches, discussing colours and layout with her. After a few minutes of that Nicky made an exasperated noise and started painting a rainbow over the doorway. After that they each took a section of wall to work on, and Joe busied himself penciling out a sketch of Marsha P. Johnson whilst Nile decided to stencil the Eiffel Tower in the colours of the bisexual flag.

Joe loved the art of tattooing, but he also loved the chance to do something different. Here on the walls he could paint as big as he wanted, and it was a nice change to have a canvas he didn’t have to worry about moving beneath him as he worked. It was also pleasant to be able to chat to people who weren’t grimacing in pain while he worked, and an hour quickly passed as he talked and laughed with Nicky and Nile, swapping jokes and stories as easily as they swapped Booker’s horrifically meagre selection of paintbrushes between them.

When Joe finished his first painting he stood up and stretched, working out the stiffness in his arms as he wandered around the room to look at what the others had done. Nicky was delightfully absorbed in his own work, biting his lip in concentration as he tried to sweep a steady arc of green along the wall. Joe waited until his paintbrush was safely away from the wall before he spoke, not wanting to startle him.

“How about we paint some flowers to pay homage to your shop?” Joe suggested.

“I think that’s beyond my artistic skills.” Nicky grimaced, now on his fifth rainbow. “But you and Nile should go ahead.”

“I’m sure you’d paint lovely flowers.” Joe said. “Come on, we can paint some green carnations, and if yours are terrible we’ll just get Booker to put some shelves in front of them.”

“Oh, charming.” Nicky laughed.

“How bad can you be? I’ll draw them with you, you can just copy what I do. I can be your own personal Bob Ross.”

“I hope you’re ready for a whole lot of happy little accidents.” Nile joked. She had a pen out and was busy filling in an outline of the island of Lesbos with fragments of Sappho’s poetry, the waves that surrounded the island formed with by curving jumbles of ancient Greek characters. If Quynh ever decided she needed a back tattoo, Joe would take her straight here and point at Nile’s art as his first suggestion.

“One. I’ll try one flower.” Nicky relented, turning away from his half finished rainbow.

Nicky needed to give himself more credit, Joe thought after a while. Yes, it took him almost three times as long to paint one flower as it did Joe, but Joe drew for a living, and time should never be an indicator of art at any rate. To Joe’s delight Nicky decided to stay and paint flowers alongside him instead of returning to his corner of rainbows, and if their elbows occasionally touched whilst they worked well… those things happen. Nicky didn’t talk much as they painted, too wrapped up in painting the dainty carnation petals, but Joe and Nile still chattered away about every sort of nonsense they could think of.

“Joe, it’s been bugging me- you’re a tattoo artist, but you don’t have any tattoos.” Nile said suddenly after a particularly long debate over the relative merits of the Tate Britain and Tate Modern.

“I have tattoos.” Joe replied with a dangerous glint in his eye. “You just haven’t seen them yet.”

“You can’t leave it like that, you have to tell us where!”

Joe laughed. “I can show you if you like.”

“Woah, that depends where they are.” Nile said quickly.

“I’ll show you one, the safe one. The others… they’re just for special occasions.” Joe teased with a sideways glance at Nicky, who was resolutely painting the same bit of wall over and over. His jaw was clenched tight, and though Joe was by no means an exhibitionist by nature he was overcome with the urge to do _something_ to get the reaction he wanted out of the other man.

Joe set down his brush and pulled his shirt off without preamble, watching Nicky out of the corner of his eye as he did. Nicky’s jaw twitched, and Joe was certain he was silently swearing to himself. Oh this was a great idea, he should have done this much sooner. 

“Nice!” Nile said appreciatively as she looked at the constellation tattoo on Joe’s chest. “Nicky, you should totally- oh Nicky, come on, it’s safe to turn round.”

Nicky reluctantly turned away from the wall, and Joe felt a rush of satisfaction at the slight flush that appeared on his cheeks as he tried, and failed, to not stare at Joe’s chest.

“Very nice.” He said thickly. “What is it?”

“Aquila.” Joe answered, making no effort to put his shirt back on. “I loved astronomy as a child, and for some reason this was the constellation eight year old Yusuf decided was his favourite. It was my dad who used to take me out star gazing, who taught me everything I knew, and so when he passed I got this for him.”

“That’s lovely.” Nicky said, finally managing to pull his eyes back up to Joe’s face. “Though I’m sorry about your father.”

Nicky’s expression was sincere, and Joe could tell he was being more than just polite. He was about to thank Nicky when Booker arrived and made a disappointed noise at the sight in front of him.

“I just wanted my room painted. Was that so hard. Why.” He said flatly, mostly to Joe.

“If you feel left out, you’re welcome to take yours off as well.” Joe said.

“Why. Why are you all like this.” Booker repeated. There was no question in his tone, just equal parts resignation and dismay, and he shook his head and walked away before any of them could find a response.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, though Joe noticed (with more than a hint of pride) that Nicky’s eyes kept on being drawn to Joe’s chest, where his tattoo was once again hidden by his shirt. Were it not for Nile, and the very real possibility that Booker would appear at the worst possible moment, Joe was almost convinced to make a move on the other man, but as it happened the evening was more than enjoyable enough without trying to get Nicky to flush that wonderful pink again. Besides, Joe was a patient man. He could wait.

*****

The spider plants had had babies. Many, many babies. Nile had already happily taken two, for her flat, but that still left Nicky with six tiny plants that he just wouldn’t have the shelf-space for in a month’s time. Nobody needed that many spider plants.

Nicky decided that the only course of action was to palm them off on his friends, and leaving the shop in Nile’s capable hands he set out on his task.

A client was leaving Joe’s shop just as Nicky left the cafe, and before he could talk himself out of it he nipped across the road and into the parlour. Joe was busy throwing needles into his sharps bin when Nicky entered, but his eyes crinkled into a smile when he looked up and saw his visitor.

“Finally come for a consultation?” He grinned as he peeled his gloves off, tossing them into another bin.

“Better than that, I come with a gift.” Nicky held out one of the spider plants to Joe, and tried to ignore how his heart thudded when Joe’s smile grew even bigger.

“For me? Nicky, how thoughtful.” Joe carefully took the offered pot.

“Well, I’m giving them to everyone, I’ve got too many to handle.” Nicky said without thinking. He thought he saw Joe’s smile flicker slightly at that, but in a second it was back in full force. Nicky decided he must have imagined it.

“All the same, I will treasure it.” Joe said earnestly. “How often does it need watering?”

“Once a week, unless it looks particularly dry. It’ll probably need a bigger pot in a month or so too- let me know and I can give you one.”

“I’ll still give you visiting rights, of course. You can come over any time to check on it.” Joe placed the small plant by his laptop and beamed at it.

“Don’t say that, I’ll be here every day.” Nicky hoped he managed to pass that off as a joke. He didn’t want Joe to think he was needy.

“Every day it is then.” Joe said amicably.

“Yes... ah,” Nicky hadn’t been expecting that. “Well-“

Joe raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“I should go, really, leave you to tidy up. But any questions about the plant just pop over.” Nicky said, hating how his brain often decided to take a holiday whenever he was talking to Joe. He left Joe with the plant, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt as he made his way down to the bookshop.

Booker was less willing than Joe to take one of the plants, looking down at the tiny pot in disgust when Nicky offered it to him.

“It’ll brighten up the place.” Nicky told him firmly. “And studies show that plants are a small way to help improve mental health.”

“Huh.” Booker didn’t sound convinced.

“Nile took two.” Nicky added. “She could offer you tips on how to keep it alive.”

“Huh.” Booker said again, but this time reached out to take the plant. “Only one though.” He said, eyeing up the other two pots Nicky had with him.

“Don’t worry,” Nicky said, “These are for the bar.”

It was a longer walk along to The Old Guard, long enough for Nicky to run over his earlier conversation with Joe several times over. Joe had seemed so happy to think Nicky was giving him _specifically_ a plant, why oh _why_ had he shut him down like that. He should have given all the spider plants to Joe, really. Maybe he should give him another plant to balance out the first, a succulent maybe, Joe was always drawing those so perhaps-

“Oh _perfect_.” Quynh swooped down on Nicky as soon as he entered the bar, pulling him out of his thoughts. She plucked the plants out of his hands before he could even register that he’d arrived. “These will go wonderfully in the ladies’ room.” She bustled off to the toilets leaving Nicky alone with Andy, who was looking at him in concern.

“You alright, Nicky?” Andy asked him, doubtlessly having noticed his somewhat vacant expression.

“It’s the Joe thing.” He admitted. “It’s getting to me a bit.”

“Do you need a drink?”

“It’s not even gone 2pm.”

Andy shrugged. “Suit yourself. What’s the Joe thing then?”

Nicky sighed, and climbed up onto one of the stools at the bar. “He’s great. He’s really, really, great but I just don’t know if he’s interested, and I don’t want to make things awkward by asking him out if he’s not. Every time I think he’s flirting with me he does something equally as charming to someone else so I don’t know where I stand. Just now I thought there might be something there between us, but then last night he took his shirt off to impress Nile!”

Andy nodded consolingly. “Sometimes you can’t tell.” She said. “Me and Quynh… we knew it was mutual straight away. But sometimes it’s harder to tell and you’ve got to decide if you want to take the risk.”

“So there is a risk.” Nicky groaned. Andy rolled her eyes.

“Of course there is. Look, for what it’s worth I think you should go for it. Joe’s nice enough that if he’s not interested he won’t be an arse about it.”

“Maybe.” Nicky muttered.

“Is this the Joe thing?” Quynh called from the toilets.

“Yeah.” Andy yelled back.

“Tell him to just go for it.”

“I can hear you!” Nicky joined in the shouting, then folded his arms on the bar and rested his head on them. Andy awkwardly patted his head. He hated this. He felt like he was back in primary school again. After a minute of blissful darkness he raised his head again, blinking in the light.

“One more week.” He said. “Give me one more week to enjoy thinking there may be a chance for me and Joe before I have to face reality.”

“Nicky.” Andy said sternly. “You sound like Booker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever had a crush on someone and thought they liked you back but it turned out they didn't, and so the next time you got a crush on someone and they seemed to reciprocate your feelings you convinced yourself that you were just reading too much into the situation and then it was only much later that you realised you were being an idiot? Nicky.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More pining! More miscommunication! Added vintage methods of declaring love!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was uh... a lot longer than I was expecting

It had been three days, and Nicky had not once dropped by to visit Joe and his spider plant. Which was probably the perfectly normal reaction to making a joke about visiting a plant, and Joe would have been a little concerned if Nicky had actually shown up demanding visiting rights every day. All the same…

His last client that afternoon was a friend of Andy and Quynh’s who wanted a sprig of rosemary along her arm. Joe had taken a few cuttings from Nicky’s small herb garden a week ago to sketch, and they now hung from a small pin in the wall in between his drawings. There was a peculiar market amongst the LGBT community for herb tattoos, Joe was discovering, and he was rather looking forward to having dried samples from all the herbs in Nicky’s garden decorating his shop.

It was late when he finished, and after he had finished explaining the aftercare routine to his client and seeing her out he tidied up as quickly as possible, as the buses got rather unpredictable after 5pm, and he didn't want to miss the last reliable one. He checked his watch before he turned the lights out: a whole 15 minutes to spare. Perfect.

As Joe stepped out and began to lock up he heard the door of the Terrarium Cafe swing open, then slam shut. He turned round to see Nicky struggling to get his key in the lock whilst balancing a box of food on one hip and several bouquets of flowers under one elbow. So awkward was his load that he dropped the key, and Joe was treated to a torrent of Italian cursing breaking through the silence of the street.

“Here, let me.” Joe jogged over and scooped the key up, deftly locking the door before dropping the key into Nicky’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” Nicky said, incredibly managing to stow his key in a pocket without dropping anything else.

“Where’s the party then?” Joe asked, nodding at the box in Nicky’s arms. 14 minutes until the bus. That gave him a good few minutes for flirting.

“No party I’m afraid.” Nicky said, adjusting his grip on the rather unwieldy crate of food. “There’s a soup kitchen at the other end of town, I take any leftovers there and help to cook once a week. The flowers are for the women’s shelter. It’s not much but... they like them. I can’t stop now.”

“You’re an actual saint.” Joe said, the wonder in his voice sincere and all thoughts of catching the bus forgotten. A slight flush spread across Nicky’s cheeks and he adjusted the crate of food in his arms awkwardly.

“I’m really not, I mean, it’s the least I can do and-“

“And?” Joe asked with a glint in his eye.

“And I pirate most of my films so that’s got to balance it out, right?” Nicky finished lamely.

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “So this is penance, is it? For piracy? I should might have to start doing that myself.”

“They’re always happy to have extra help at the kitchen.” Nicky said earnestly. “You’d be more than welcome to come along with me one night.”

“Excellent, how about tonight?”

Nicky seemed more than a little stunned by Joe’s enthusiasm. Joe laughed at his expression and shrugged.

“No time like the present after all.” He said.

“I guess not.” Nicky replied, a curious look on his face. “Would you like a lift there? I actually have my car with me for once.”

“I would very much like a lift.” Joe said. “I’m having a rather love:hate relationship with buses at the moment.”

Nicky laughed, and set off down the road, gesturing with his head for Joe to follow him.

“I normally cycle, myself, but it’s rather hard with all this.” He said as they walked.

“You’re just not trying hard enough.” Joe teased. “I once moved flat and carried my new mattress back from Ikea on a bike.”

Nicky snorted and shook his head. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Nicky was parked round the back of the street in a tiny, ratty parking lot. Which was fitting, as his car was a tiny, ratty Ford Ka that looked one bumpy road away from shaking itself apart. It was clean inside though, and clearly well cared for despite its age, and Joe settled himself into the passenger seat as Nicky loaded up the boot.

Joe was looking forward to a nice long journey with plenty of time for he and Nicky to talk, but his plans of flirtatious conversation were ruined when Nicky started the car up and a cacophonous wall of noise assaulted Joe’s ears.

“Is this-?” Joe trailed off in disbelief as the sounds of frantic drums and trumpets started playing in the car. “Nicky, is this _ska_?”

“Yes.” Nicky said simply as he reversed out of the parking spot.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you might be a man of taste.” Joe joked.

“What’s wrong with ska?”

“Well, everything.”

“Ska’s about looking at the world, and deciding that even though it can be a harsh and sad place it’s still yours to make what you will out of. It can be as uplifting as pop, as political as punk, but infinitely better than both because it has trumpets.” Nicky sounded like he had this argument a lot, and Joe realised that the inoffensive indie music that played in his shop was likely Nile’s doing.

“I can’t believe you’re making a valid argument for ska. I’m _almost_ feeling like I could be convinced.” Joe groaned.

The corner of Nicky’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “There’s some more CDs in the glove compartment, I won’t be offended if you want to change it.”

Joe rooted around inside the compartment and brought out a handful of CDs. Nicky had a varied taste in music that was for sure, ranging from Abba to Tchaikovsky to Fabrizio De André.

“We’ll stick with the ska for now.” He decided. “But we’re definitely having ABBA on the way back.”

“As you wish.” Nicky turned and cracked a smile at Joe, and Joe felt that he would listen to nothing but ska for the rest of his life if it meant Nicky would continue to smile like that.

They dropped the flowers off first, Nicky leaving Joe in the car as he took the bouquets to the women’s refuge, then carried on to the soup kitchen. To Joe’s disappointment the journey was relatively short, but at least that minimised the amount of time he was exposed to Nicky’s taste in music.

When they arrived at the soup kitchen Joe was surprised yet again. He had honestly been expecting a dingy canteen where the only food served would be generic gruel. He hadn’t been prepared for colourful walls and a kitchen alive with activity. Nicky laughed when he admitted this.

“We want people to feel safe, no? Somewhere they can be comfortable, even if it’s only for a short while.”

“And the gruel?” Joe looked over appreciatively where a large batch of chilli was being prepared.

“You’ve been reading too much Dickens.” Nicky rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in his voice. “We’re lucky to get a decent amount of donations here: if gruel is the best you can come up with you’re lacking in both humanity and imagination.”

“Fair enough.” Joe laughed. “So what can I do?”

“You can start by putting these on-“ here Nicky tossed Joe an apron and a pair of gloves, “-and help me start chopping those potatoes over there.”

Joe obligingly did as he was told, and was soon working his way through what seemed to be a mountain of potatoes. Nicky introduced him to the other volunteers as and when they passed by, and Joe was quickly commandeered by an older Egyptian woman called Farida who insisted he was wasted on such a simple task as chopping potatoes.

“You remind me of my sons.” She told him as she set him to work helping her with a lentil stew. “Though much tidier. Wallahi but I could never get either of those boys to so much as wash their own clothes let alone iron them.”

“The horror.” Joe grinned. “Where are they now then?”

“Happily married and out from under my feet.” Farida snorted as she carefully measured out spices. “Though I do miss them. That’s why I come here: I need _someone_ to appreciate my cooking, and my husband has the tastebuds of a goat.”

Joe laughed at that. “Then he is not deserving of such a woman as you.”

“That’s what I tell him.” Farida agreed, then lowered her voice. “I will be honest, Joe, we are all trying to work out if you are deserving of such a man as Nicky.”

Joe’s laughter caught in his throat, and in a rare occurrence he found himself lost for words.

“I’m not... he’s just a friend, really, though I would like to be deserving of him, very much so, only I haven’t asked him yet and...” he trailed off as Farida shook her head at him.

“I knew you reminded me of my sons. Amir was just as useless when he met his Lydia.” She scoffed, then her voice softened. “Nicky is a good man, but he worries too much. No one can ignore the way you look at each other, but the poor boy’s doubtlessly convinced himself you don’t feel the same way, and doesn’t want to risk making you feel awkward by making advances he thinks you’ll reject. If you want him, you must tell him.”

“Have you decided I’m worthy of him then?” Joe asked, his heart somehow feeling ten times lighter than it had a minute ago.

“Almost.” Farida narrowed her eyes. “Pass me those chickpeas and we’ll see if I can make up my mind.”

*****

Joe thought about his conversation with Farida all through the rest of the evening and during the car journey back (Nicky had kindly offered to drop Joe back at his place, to save him from the horrible buses). She was right, it was probably time Joe moved on from the flirting and asked Nicky out directly.

He thought briefly of inviting Nicky up to his flat when he dropped him off, of offering him a drink and steering things hopefully towards the bedroom, but that seemed rather forward. It wasn’t like they were coming back from a date, and besides, if he was going to ask Nicky out he was going to do it properly.

“Joe?” Nicky’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he realised they were parked up outside his flat. Nicky was looking at him expectantly, his eyes bright and his mouth ever so slightly open, and if Joe undid his seatbelt he could so easily lean over and-

No. He would do this right.

“Thanks.” He said instead, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. “We should do this again sometime.”

“We should.” Nicky smiled, and it took every ounce of Joe’s resolve to close the car door and turn away.

As Nicky drove off into the distance Joe let himself into his flat, a plan forming in his head.

*****

The night before had been great, Nicky thought. Yes, Joe had been away from him for most of it, kept hard at work under the watchful eye of Farida, but every so often he would look over his shoulder at Nicky and smile, or brush shoulders with him as they moved about the kitchen. And he wanted to do it again sometime.

He was probably imagining it, but he felt as though something changed when Joe came in for his regular morning coffee. His eyes lingered on Nicky a fraction longer, and his fingers brushed against Nicky’s when he took his cup from him. He even came over to the till after he had finished eating instead of leaving, and Nicky’s heart pounded in his chest as Joe leant on the counter towards him.

“One last thing.” Joe said, a smile on his lips. “I’d like to buy some flowers please.”

“Flowers.” Nicky stated, feeling like he’d run straight into a brick wall.

“Mmmhmm.” Joe nodded, then listed off what he wanted.

Nicky numbly set about gather the bouquet together, trying not to feel too disheartened. He honestly thought something had been about to happen. Joe seemed oblivious to his change in mood, and even winked at Nicky as he left.

“I’ll put them in the window, so you can see them.” He called as the door swung shut behind him, and true enough, proceeded to display the flowers in the window of his shop.

Nicky sighed, and tried to push the incident out of his mind. So much for that. He started wiping down the tables, stuck in his own thoughts until Nile gently prodded him in the back.

“Nicky.” Nile said. “Could I take my break now?”

“Yes, of course, are you alright?” Nicky asked in concern.

“I just need to see if Sebast- if Booker has something I need.” Nile said, already slipping out of her apron. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She practically ran out of the shop, returning barely a minute later with a small pocket book with a peeling cover, and started flicking through the pages.

“Aha!” She said triumphantly, bringing the book over to Nicky. “Flower language: a single red rose signifies love.”

“That’s nice. Do you want one to give to Booker?” Nicky asked. Nile rolled her eyes.

“No, but _Joe_ just bought one in his bouquet.”

“Along with some others.” Nicky pointed out.

“Oh yes, let me see... gardenias was it?” Nile flicked through the book some more before stopping on a different page. “There we go: gardenias can either mean loveliness or a secret love.”

“Any flower can mean anything if you try hard enough.” Nicky pointed out. He’d never heard of flower language until now, and it seemed rather ridiculous if he was being honest. Nile held a finger up, silencing him as she searched through the book.

“Irises. They signify that a message is being sent. A message using flowers, in this case.” She furiously turned more pages before announcing triumphantly “and there! Striped tulips: beautiful eyes. That’s _definitely_ you, Nicky, you can’t deny that.”

That did make Nicky pause.

“But, why would he do this? Why not just come out and say it?” he wondered.

“Joe’s an _artist_ , Nicky, of course he thinks an outdated secret language is a good way to hit on someone. Now you need to be the sensible one and go over and ask him out in English.” Nile ordered him, her eyes bright.

“Alright.” Nicky nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll do it.” He untied his apron and tossed it onto the counter, heading out of the shop before he could second guess himself. This was it. He was finally going to ask Joe out.

Thankfully there were no clients yet in Joe’s shop, and Nicky strode in and over to where Joe was sat sketching on a tablet carried by a wave of confidence he never thought he’d have.

“Hey.” Joe looked up at Nicky and smiled, and for once that actually boosted Nicky’s resolve instead of melting his brain as it usually did.

“Hi.” He stopped in front of the counter, unsure of what exactly to do with his hands. He settled for jamming them into his pockets where they couldn’t get him into any trouble.

“I was wondering maybe if you’d like to possibly get a drink sometime perhaps?” Nicky asked all too fast, and with too many superfluous words in there. Joe took a moment to process the words, his eyes never breaking contact with Nicky’s, and that moment was all it took for Nicky’s brain to throw itself fully into reverse.

He was hit by a sudden realisation: If Joe _was_ communicating via flower language, and if Nicky was his target, surely he’d have then presented him with the flowers? Chances were, the flowers were for someone else and were just in the window for the time being. Nicky hastily amended his offer.

“A few of us are going out.” He said. “Well, me and Nile and Booker. We do every Thursday, and you should join us. Tonight?” He elaborated.

“I’d love to.” Said Joe, and Nicky wasn’t sure whether he was happy Joe had said yes, or sad he had only said yes after the promise of more people joining.

“Ok. Well, we generally meet at 8, at The Old Guard.”

“I’ll be there.” Joe grinned, and looked like he would have said something else if Nicky hadn’t practically run back across the street to the safety of his own shop.

Booker had shown up in the short time he had been out, and was laughing about something with Nile when Nicky walked over to pick his apron back up.

“Chicken out of asking Joe on a date then?” Booker asked when he saw Nicky’s face, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

“How did you-“ Nicky started, then looked at Nile, who was gazing innocently out of the window.

“Hey, if you want my opinion-“ Booker started.

“I don’t.”

“-I think you should go for it. He’s been asking me about you.”

“He hasn’t.” Nicky said, a pit forming in his stomach.

“He has. Asking if you’re single, if you’re, you know, more than just an ally to the rainbow cause.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Nicky said, aghast. “All this time I’ve been trying to work out if he liked me or not and you’d _spoken_ to him about it?”

“It wasn’t my place to say.” Booker shrugged.

Nicky wanted to thump him. Nile did.

Jesus Mary and Joseph. This changed everything. And Nicky had just walked over there, asked Joe out, then turned it into a group event.

“We can bail on tonight if you like?” Nile offered.

“No, I’ve already said it’s a weekly thing for us.” Nicky said sadly. Damnit, why hadn’t he done anything sooner? Why had _Joe_ not done anything sooner?

“Well, how about you dress up extra nice tonight, enjoy a drink with us, then make a move on Joe when Booker and I leave.” Nile said.

“It’s a good plan, Nicky.” Booker agreed, earning himself a pleased smile from Nile.

“It’s barely a plan.” Nicky pointed out. It _was_ barely a plan… but it would do.

*****

Joe had been so certain Nicky was about to ask him out when he’d burst into his shop earlier. His eyes had been bright and he’d been smiling and then he’d just... shut down. Joe began to realise that maybe not all florists were innately versed in Victorian flower language, and what he’d perceived to be a grand romantic gesture hadn’t worked in the slightest. On second thoughts, keeping the flowers for himself had definitely complicated things. Oh what a cruel mistress hindsight was.

No matter. He would be seeing Nicky later that evening anyways: if he could catch him on his own he’d set the record straight. And then Nicky would blush and Joe would pull him into his arms and he’d finally get to discover what if felt like to kiss him.

The whole day passed in a blur as Joe daydreamed about the upcoming evening, his only Nicky-free thoughts coming as he concentrated on tattooing his clients. He closed up, went home, and ate in record time, then sat on his sofa wondering if he could leave _now_. No, he couldn’t look too eager and show up early. Should he show up late instead? That also seemed like a bad idea: he didn’t want to send Nicky any more mixed signals.

In the end he got off his bus a few stops early so he could pace his walk to arrive at The Old Guard exactly for 8 o’clock, though when he arrived he was still the first one there. Luckily, Quynh spotted him and swept out from behind the bar to pull him into a hug.

“Joe, darling.” She greeted him. Andy didn’t move, but she smiled and raised a hand in greeting. “I can’t believe it took you so long to come here! What can I get you? First drink’s on the house.” She smiled and pulled him along to the bar, then suddenly let go of his hand and swept off again.

“Nicky! Come in, Joe’s just arrived and is oh so lonely.” she said, with a sly twist to her voice.

Joe turned around at that, and sure enough Nicky was stood in the doorway of the bar, looking like a dream.

He had dressed up. Or at least, he’d dressed up compared to his usual wardrobe of nondescript tshirts. He was wearing a light blue short sleeved polo that fitted him in a way that was almost sinful, clinging to his broad shoulders and tapering down to his waist. As if that wasn’t enough, it looked like he’d actually styled his hair, as the short strands that often hung over his forehead were pushed back. Joe’s mouth went dry.

“Nice shirt.” Joe grinned by way of greeting as Nicky came over. Nicky looked down at himself as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing, then back at Joe with a rueful smile.

“Birthday present from Nile.” He said. “She said I needed some more colour in my wardrobe.”

“She made a good choice.” Joe said appreciatively, making no effort to hide the way his eyes were drawn to the triangle of Nicky’s exposed skin below his collarbone. Had Nile also told him not to do the top buttons up? If so, she was a genius they were all barely worthy of.

“Have you already ordered?” Nicky asked him, that delightful flush springing to his cheeks. He was always so quick to redden, and Joe loved it. He wondered if he’d be able to get Nicky to blush all over.

“He hasn’t.” Andy answered for Joe. “But you men are so predictable.” She said as she pushed two lagers across the bar towards them.

“You’re a mind reader, Andy.” Nicky smiled. He took his beer and turned to Joe, holding it out. “Salute.”

“Salute.” Joe replied as he met Nicky’s glass with his own, enjoying the feel of the word in his mouth. He was going to enjoy learning Italian.

He didn’t get a chance to say much more than cheers, however, as Nile and Booker soon joined them and they all crowded into a booth together. Throughout the evening Quynh and Andy would take turns in coming over to sit with them: Quynh stopping by to chat and gossip, Andy coming over to probe Booker about his plans for his “grand opening”.

With his walls freshly painted, Booker had finally sorted out his boxes of LGBT books into appropriate genres, and was all set for the opening in just over a week’s time. Joe could tell that whilst he was more than happy to open up the new section he was less than thrilled at the prospect of the “grand opening” as the others insisted on calling it.

“It’ll be fun, Book.” Nile nudged him with her elbow. “There’ll be food, and alcohol, and tons of people just itching to tear those books from the shelves and buy them.”

“But then I’ll need to get _more_ books.” Booker complained.

“That’s generally how it works, yes.” Joe laughed.

Booker groaned and downed the rest of his pint, waving the empty glass at Andy who smacked him around the head and told him they didn’t offer table service to men who didn’t answer their texts.

“What about you, Joe?” Nile turned to him. “You never did a proper opening for your place. You could even do an art viewing, sell off some of those sketches of yours!”

“You definitely could.” Nicky agreed. “Some of those drawings you have up are wonderful.”

“Only some?” Joe teased, but he would have been filled with pride if Nicky had said he liked even just one of his drawings. Nicky rolled his eyes, but smiled at Joe behind his pint.

“You definitely should, Joe.” Andy said. “I know Quynh’s being eyeing up that sketch of the pirate ship ever since you put it up, and I’m in the hunt for an anniversary present.”

“And those pictures of orchids you did would be amazing in our shop, right Nicky?” Nile added. Nicky nodded solemnly, and just like that Joe was sold on the idea.

They started brainstorming what Joe could do in earnest then, before the numerous beers set in and the conversation devolved into catching Joe up on all the ridiculous in-jokes they’d created over the years. It was comforting how quickly Joe fell into place in their little group, and he felt like he’d known them all for longer than the month he had.

Joe stopped drinking when he felt himself struggling to keep his thoughts in a straight line- it was only a Thursday, after all- but by then the night seemed to be winding down anyways. Nicky had unconsciously shifted closer and closer to Joe as the evening had worn on, and was currently leaning heavily on Joe’s shoulder as he occasionally sipped at what remained in his own glass. Joe’s shoulder felt as though it were burning where Nicky touched it, even through his shirt, and he had to stop himself from making a disappointed noise when Nicky finally pulled himself upright as Nile gave the loudest yawn possible.

“I have to go.” Nile looked like she was close to dropping off. “I don’t normally drink this much on a Thursday.”

“I’ll walk with you to the taxi rank.” Booker offered. He’d drunk the most out of all of them, and yet was worryingly the most put together.

“Text me when you get back, ok?” Andy told Nile sternly as she came over to collect the empty glasses from the table.

“‘M an adult.” Nile mumbled.

“Yes you are. But I’m still nearly twenty years older so I’m obliged to worry.” Andy said fondly. “Humour me.”

“Ok.” Nile yawned. She shrugged her jacket on and poked Booker impatiently in the shoulder. “C’mon. Be a gentleman and walk me to my carriage then.”

“We should be off too.” Joe said to Nicky as the door shut behind Nile and Booker. “Should I walk you to the taxi rank as well?” He teased, silently hoping that Nicky would say yes. To his disappointment Nicky shook his head.

“No. I want food. Do you want food?” He said instead, and just like that Joe’s disappointment vanished.

“I could go for some food. There’s a great falafel place that’s open late near here.”

“Perfect.” Nicky stood up and stretched. “Lead on.”

They said their goodbyes to Andy and Quynh and set off, but were halfway down the road when Nicky stopped, turning to Joe with excitement in his eyes as though a brilliant idea had just occurred to him.

“Joe. I have food. In my shop.”

“Is that a good idea?” Joe laughed.

“Of course it is! We won’t have to pay, and my falafel are better.”

“Oh, bold claim. This I have to try.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Nicky soon discovered that he didn’t have any falafel in his fridge, and though he was fully prepared to run to the 24 hour Tescos and grab the ingredients to make them from scratch Joe managed to convince him to settle for cheese on toast instead. Even after several drinks Nicky was efficient in the kitchen, presenting Joe with a ciabatta covered in no less than three different melted cheeses in under five minutes. Not bothering to move from the kitchen to the seating area, they both sat down on the floor to eat, their backs to the cupboards.

“I love cheese.” Nicky said reverently as he took a bite of his ciabatta. It was still too hot from the grill and he made a face, and Joe had to laugh at his expression.

They ate in comfortable silence after that, up until Nicky let out a satisfied sigh as he finished and slumped down against the cupboards. Joe suddenly knew that this was it, this was his moment, and he carefully set his own plate down on the floor.

“Since we’re here,” he started, “Let me just run across to my shop. I’ve got some flowers for you.”

“Screw the flowers.” Nicky said, and kissed him.

Nicky’s breath was still heavy with the taste of beer, but his lips were warm and parted for Joe when he tentatively ran his tongue along the seam. Joe’s eyes fluttered closed, and he gave himself over to the feel of Nicky’s tongue gliding over his, of his teeth nipping at Joe’s lips, at his fingers coming up to caress Joe’s beard.

“I’ve been such an idiot.” Nicky muttered when they parted for breath, his accent thick. “I can’t believe I convinced myself you weren’t interested.”

“How could I not be interested in this?” Joe replied, taking a gentle hold of Nicky’s chin and using it to guide their mouths back together again.

Joe wasn’t sure how long they kissed for. Time seemed to warp and distort around them as he set about learning everything he could about how Nicky liked to be kissed. He liked it when Joe ran his fingers through his hair, when he nipped a line of kisses along his jaw and down his throat, when Joe sucked hard on his bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. Joe discovered he liked it when Nicky’s nose bumped against his when he got overeager, and he especially liked how much Nicky seemed to appreciate his beard.

When they finally untangled themselves, breathless, Joe almost whined at the loss of contact. Nicky laughed, and heaved himself to his feet, offering a hand out to Joe once he was standing.

“One of us has to open at 8am.” He said, and Joe sighed theatrically.

“I suppose I’d better let you go then.”

“I suppose.” Nicky studied him for a moment, his head cocked slightly to one side. “Or you could walk me to the taxi rank.”

Joe beamed. “It would be my pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicky is a fan of all three waves of ska and no one can convince me otherwise. He owns a “ska came before reggae” tshirt and will not hesitate to school a bitch on how Two Tone was all about promoting anti-racist views and giving a voice to the working class.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's date night baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns that E rating, so if you're not down to read these two clown, I'd just sign off when Nicky tells Joe to take his shoes off.

It was clichéd, Nicky knew, but he felt almost as though he was walking on air the next morning. He used to look forward to Joe’s daily visits with a mixture of excitement and trepidation: now, all fear and worry was gone, and Joe couldn’t arrive soon enough. If Nile noticed anything she didn’t say anything, though that was likely more to do with her feeling the effects of the night before.

“I’m getting old, Nicky.” She moaned as she used the plant spritzer to spray herself in the face in an attempt to rid herself of her hangover.

“How’s that supposed to make me feel?” Nicky teased. He knew what she meant though: he’d gone through a similar thing himself a few years ago, when his body decided to suddenly drop his alcohol tolerance without any due notice.

“You _are_ old.” Nile told him, quite unfairly he thought, then spritzed him as well. “Look sharp, Joe alert.”

Sure enough Joe was yawning his way through the shop, heading towards them. Nile spritzed him with water for good measure, then disappeared into the storeroom to direct the spray somewhere it was actually needed.

“Not a bad way to wake up, that.” Joe said amicably as he leant his arms on the counter, leaning over to look at the menu board that Nicky was certain he must know by heart at this point. “Could I get the latte with an extra shot please, and a banana muffin. Oh, and are you free tomorrow evening? I was thinking we could go for dinner somewhere.” He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes in order to turn the full force of his dazzling smile on Nicky.

Nicky smiled back as added the order up, glad he no longer had heart palpitations whenever Joe beamed at him. “I’m free, did you have anywhere in mind?”

Joe just grinned as he held out his phone to the card machine, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“It’s a surprise.” he said as the machine beeped in confirmation. “7? I’ll text you the address.”

“7 it is.” Nicky agreed, handing Joe his muffin and turning away to make the coffee. Out of the corner of his eye he could see into the storeroom, where Nile had frozen in the act of spraying the plants there and was looking at Nicky with a mixture of shock and excitement. He ignore her, and hummed along to the music playing in the shop as he made the latte, and Joe tapped his fingers on the counter in time with the beat. It all just felt so natural, a stark contrast to how Nicky used to over-analyse every little interaction he and Joe had.

“There you go.” He said with another smile as he placed Joe’s coffee on the counter. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Until then.” Joe took his coffee and winked at Nicky, then left. For once Nicky didn’t try to stop himself for watching Joe walk away, admiring how his jeans were fitted just right for him to appreciate the form beneath. He turned back to the kitchen, humming again, only to be assaulted by Nile as she came barrelling out of the store room, any hangover apparently forgotten.

“This is brilliant! Finally! How are you feeling? Are you in shock? Do you need a sit down? Need to run around the block?” Nile asked him.

“I’m fine.”

Nile made a disbelieving noise. “You’re fine? Just fine? The man you’ve been dreaming about for weeks just asked you out and your response is this? This... nonchalance?”

“Well I guessed it was coming. We kissed last night.” Nicky explained. Nile took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“And you didn’t tell me?! Damn you, Nicky!”

“Well you haven’t been very talkative this morning!” Nicky protested. Nile spritzed him.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

*****

Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough. It had been over half a year since Nicky last went on a date, and almost two years since he’d been out with someone he’d actually liked beforehand. He might have panicked a little on the day, if phoning one’s mother three separate times in one hour and changing outfits five times in between those calls could be considered panicking.

He eventually settled on a deep red shirt that he bought from a charity shop years ago, as Joe seemed to like him in colour. It was 70s style, Quynh had once told him, and apparently the large retro collars were very “in” right now. He shaved, just to save Joe from any stubble burn, and ran some putty through what was almost becoming a fringe to push it back from his forehead. The last thing he did before he left was video call Nile, who had demanded she vet whatever he wore.

“Oh damn.” She said appreciatively as she answered the call. “Remind me again why you don’t dress like this every day?”

“Because I don’t want to get nice shirts ruined by food and or pollen?”

“Aprons, Nicky, that’s why we have aprons. Anyway, Joe’s going to love it. What do you think, Book?” she called over her shoulder.

Nicky realised she was stood in Booker’s shop, and a second later Booker himself ambled into view.

“You could look a lot worse.” He assessed. Nile rolled her eyes and pushed him out of view.

“That's man slang for "you look great"." she said. "I won’t keep you any longer, but ring me after to tell me all about it. Or don’t, if you’re, y’know.” She laughed, making a crude gesture with her hand and hanging up.

If Nile thought Nicky looked good, she would have a field day if she saw Joe. When Nicky arrived at the restaurant (a fancy Lebanese place conveniently only a few bus stops away from him) his mind actually went blank as he caught sight of Joe already sat at the table. He was wearing a lightly patterned blue and white shirt that fit him ten times better than Nicky’s did, the sleeves neatly rolled up to reveal well-muscled forearms that Nicky ached to have wrapped round him. Hung on the back of his chair was a leather jacket, and Nicky was silently glad that Joe had taken it off, because it meant he was at least finally able to choke out a “I’m meeting someone.” to the waiter who was politely pretending not to notice Nicky’s momentary speechlessness.

He was somewhat mollified when he sat down and saw how Joe appreciatively ran his eyes over him, complimenting him on how the shirt contrasted his eyes beautifully.

“You look pretty good yourself.” Nicky said. An understatement. Joe laughed.

“Why thank you.”

They ordered their food, and Joe explained to him that that the restaurant was bring your own booze.

“So what would you like to drink?” he then asked, momentarily confusing Nicky before elaborating. “I have red, white, lager, or one of those premixed G&Ts.”

“You… you brought a selection of drinks?” Nicky asked, slightly dumbfounded at the effort Joe had gone to, not to mention the strain of carrying all of that.

“I didn’t know what you’d like.” Joe said easily, as though carting round a satchel full of various alcohols was a perfectly normal thing to do.

“I would have happily just had water.” Nicky said, and Joe rolled his eyes.

“I know. But give me some credit.”

“Alright, let’s open one of the wines then. Your choice.”

Joe obligingly brought out the bottle of red from his bag and poured them both a glass, raising it in cheers to Nicky.

“So. Where do we start?” Nicky asked after he took a sip of the wine. “We’ve been talking for weeks but I feel I don’t know anything important about you.”

“Nonsense.” Joe brushed him off. “You know how I like my coffee. You know I prefer blondies over brownies and that I’ve never managed to open my shop on time a day in my life. You know that I think Victorian flower language is an acceptable way to make a move on someone.”

“I take it back, that’s all I need to know.” Nicky laughed. “I guess I know what you’re _like_ , but I want to know _things_. Where did you grow up? How many siblings do you have? What was the last holiday you went on?”

“What was the name of my first pet and what are the last four digits of my card number?” Joe grinned. “No you’re right, let’s do this. But you’ve got to match me question for question.”

“Sounds fair.” Nicky took another sip of his wine. It was good; Joe certainly knew what he was buying. “Question 1: where did you grow up and how did you come to live here?”

Joe puffed out his cheeks then blew the air out. “Big question. I was born in Tunis, Tunisia, but moved to the Netherlands when I was twelve. My mother’s job offered her a promotion there that was too good to turn down. I started studying art at university in Utrecht, but left after a year to apprentice in a tattoo parlour instead. After a while I fancied a change of scene, did a year in Paris, then decided to try my luck over here.”

“How long have you been here for then?”

“A few years. I started off at the other end of town, but I wanted somewhere a little… nicer, and Quynh brought my attention to my current shop.”

“Good old Quynh.” Nicky grinned. For all her promises of not meddling, it had ultimately been her who had brought he and Joe together. He’d have to thank her properly later.

“How about you? How did the Nicolò I have before me now come to be here?”

Nicky took a breath. “Believe it or not, I was set on becoming a priest when I was younger.”

If Joe had had a mouthful of wine at that moment, Nicky was certain he would have sprayed it out in surprise. As things were, he made a noise that sounded vaguely like he was being strangled.

“I didn’t, obviously.” Nicky added hastily. “I decided it wasn’t right for me just before I was due to start at the seminary. The night before, actually, it was all rather awkward.”

“Crisis of faith?” Joe asked.

“More like a crisis of the application of faith. I still believe in God, and that I should do my best to carry out His will, I just... I didn’t think the Church as an institution was something I should apply myself to. I believe we all serve God in our own ways, and my path wasn’t destined to preach sermons and pose for the Vatican’s yearly sexy priest calendar.”

Joe did choke on his schawarma at that, and spent a good minute coughing while Nicky tried very hard not to smirk.

“Please tell me that’s real. I have to see that.”

“I might have a few old ones lying around I can lend you.” Nicky laughed. He didn't mention that he and Nile currently had one hanging up in the storeroom.

“So what then? You didn’t join the priesthood and...?” Joe prompted.

“I did some outreach for a year or two, then decided I should get a degree. I took sociology in Napoli and took a year abroad here as part of that.” Nicky swallowed. “I might have er, fallen in love, at that point, and moved here permanently after I finished my course. Obviously that didn’t work out, and ultimately I ended up at The Old Guard trying not to cry into my pint. Andy and Quynh took pity on me, gave me equal amounts of stern lectures and pep talks, and eventually I accidentally adopted a florists with the intent of opening a cafe.”

Nicky let everything fall out in a rush, not wanting to linger on certain memories. It had been almost four years ago, but occasionally whenever he thought of the day when he’d stumbled into The Old Guard, bedraggled and beyond miserable, he still felt a sharp stab of sadness. Luckily, Joe read him well enough to know not to probe too much about that. Not on the first date, anyway.

“So Andy and Quynh are your fairy godmothers, huh?” He said.

“Something like that.” Nicky said with a smile. “I probably would have packed it all in and moved back to Italy if they hadn’t been there for me.”

“And that would have been a shame.” Joe mused, and Nicky felt warm inside. “Alright, my turn. Any siblings?”

They talked easily after that, as Nicky told Joe about his family back home in Genova, and Joe in turn told Nicky all about his younger sister Mariam. She was apparently making up for Joe’s lack of higher education by studying for a PDEng at Delft, and the pride in Joe’s voice as he talked about her was clear. They discussed the various holidays they had been on, and their dream destinations for the future. Joe wanted to go to Malta. From the way Joe spoke about it, Nicky found himself desperate to visit Malta too.

When they had finished with the schawarma they ordered some baklava to share, and swapped more stories about their families and pasts. Joe had wanted to be an astronaut as a child, until he had discovered how much maths and science he would have to study before he achieved that goal. Nicky solemnly told him that when he was three years old his greatest ambition was to be a train, and Joe laughed so hard he had to wipe tears away from his eyes.

“Nicky, you’re killing me.” He joked as he tried to bring his laughter under control.

Nicky merely smirked, and finished off his last bite of baklava. He was aware of the crumbs of pastry sticking to his lips, and without a second thought swept his tongue out to gather them up. He felt Joe’s eyes on him, and realised the other man was looking at him with barely disguised want, his laughter finally finished.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Joe said in a low voice, leaning on the table and propping his chin up on his hand as he gazed at Nicky’s face.

“We could uh, go somewhere and do just that.” Nicky offered.

“On the first date?” Joe pretended to be scandalised, but even though Nicky was sure he was joking he hastily added:

“We don’t have to, of course, I just thought in case you wanted to-“

“Nicky, I want nothing more than to leave here and go somewhere no one can hear the sounds you make as I take you apart piece by piece.”

“I don’t know whether to be turned on or terrified.” Nicky laughed. Joe just smirked. The bill couldn’t come soon enough.

*****

Nicky’s house was everything Joe had expected it to be. There were odd plants scattered about the place and none of the furniture matched in any way, but it was clean and tidy and cosy. He had two mismatched throw blankets folded over the back of his sofa, and Joe could already picture them both curling up together on a rainy Sunday afternoon, reading and napping and cuddling and-

“Would you like a drink?” Nicky asked him politely, already having taken his shoes and jacket off. “I have some beers in the fridge.”

“Beer would be perfect.” Joe smiled, then reached out and grabbed a hold of Nicky’s hand as the other man turned to leave. “But they can wait a minute.” He added.

He stepped in towards Nicky and took a moment to admire how his eyes almost seemed to shine up at him, then threaded a hand through his fine, short hair and kissed him.

Nicky responded immediately, his hands coming up to clutch at Joe’s jacket and pull him in closer, his legs slotting in-between Joe’s as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. There was still a trace of honey on his lips and Joe sucked it off, delighting in the small moan it provoked from Nicky.

After a moment Nicky broke the kiss, though kept his face an inch from Joe’s. He licked his lips, and Joe was ready to kiss him again, but instead he brought his mouth up to Joe’s ear and said:

“Take your damn shoes off in my house.”

He was gone again in an instant, walking away into his kitchen leaving Joe to quickly pull his boots off and follow. Nicky retrieved a couple of beers from his fridge and handed one to Joe, then led him to the living room. There was an attempt to continue their conversation from the restaurant, but Joe was too keyed up from the kiss earlier to do much talking. He only drank half his beer before the temptation to kiss Nicky again struck, and he gave in without a second thought.

The kiss was just as wonderful as the previous ones had been, slow and languid as they took the time to explore each other’s mouths. At one point Nicky shifted towards him a little, and Joe decided to reach his arms out and tug Nicky along until he was sat on Joe’s lap. This gave them the new phenomenon of Nicky being the taller one of the two, and Nicky eagerly took to his new position, bringing his hands up to cup Joe’s face and angle his head back to accept his torrent of kisses.

Their kisses deepened, growing more frantic, and Nicky started to gently rock against Joe as Joe undid the top button of Nicky’s shirt to allow him to press his lips to the skin there. After a nod from Nicky Joe undid the rest of the buttons and slipped his shirt from his shoulders, guiding Nicky to lean back slightly so he could get a good look.

Nicky was slighter than Joe, and soft in places where Joe had hard muscle, and Joe wanted nothing more than to throw Nicky down onto the sofa and kiss every inch of exposed skin he could get his mouth on. Nicky had other ideas. He fumbled with the buttons of Joe’s shirt until he finally managed to undo them all, then pressed himself back against Joe to kiss him hard. Joe delighted in the sensation of their chests pressed together, in the warmth he could feel building between them, in the slight muscles he could feel as he ran his hands up and down Nicky’s back. Nicky just seemed to fit so well against him, and Joe cursed himself for not making a move sooner.

Everything Nicky did sent small waves of pleasure running through Joe, from the way he sucked marks into Joe’s neck to the way he rolled his hips down, again and again until Joe started to stiffen, uncomfortably trapped in his jeans. Soon enough Nicky worked a hand between them both, coming to rest against the now sizable bulge in Joe’s jeans. He made a noise of satisfaction as his fingers followed the outline of Joe through the thick denim, palming him with just enough pressure until he was fully hard and straining against the material.

“May I?” He murmured against Joe’s lips, his fingers teasing Joe’s fly.

“Please do.” Joe said as he breathed out, all plans of what he wanted to do to Nicky momentarily forgotten as he waited in anticipation to discover what Nicky wanted to do to _him_.

Nicky climbed off Joe’s lap and knelt on the floor, pulling Joe’s socks off and throwing them aside. Joe decided to help him out and unbuckled his jeans, popping the button and pulling them down his legs without even bothering to undo the zip. Nicky just watched intently as he did, then his eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos hidden beneath Joe’s jeans.

“I’d forgotten you had more tattoos.” He said in a low voice. Joe looked down at where Nicky knelt between his legs, a thoughtful smile on his face as he stroked Joe’s calf, his fingers following the interweaving mandalas inked there.

“What do those ones say?” he asked Joe, nodding upwards at Joe’s thighs to his other tattoos.

Joe took Nicky’s hand in his and brought it up so his finger rested at the start of the Arabic text on his left thigh.

“It’s from a poem.” He said. “Because my love for you is higher than words, I have decided to fall silent.”

As he recited the poem he guided Nicky’s finger along the lines, Nicky enraptured by the sight.

“That’s beautiful.” He said, his fingers still lightly tracing the ink even as Joe released him. “Though I find it hard to imagine you ever falling silent. What about the other one? Is that also a poem?”

“It is.” Joe said. “But that one, you’re going to learn to translate yourself.”

“Will you teach me?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Nicky breathed, running his hands away from Joe’s tattoos and down to rest on the outside of his thighs.

He leant in and kissed the untranslated text, then gently ran his tongue across the tattoo as though spelling out the words he could not yet pronounce. He repeated his ministrations on Joe’s other leg, then slowly kissed his way up and along his inner thigh until he was a hair’s breadth away the obvious evidence of Joe’s arousal. He paused to glance up at Joe, and Joe was yet again struck by Nicky’s eyes. They were more intense than usual, his pupils dilated with want, and Joe felt like his could stare into their depths for hours.

“Can I?” Nicky asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Joe nodded and Nicky smiled, then he moved forward and pressed his lips to where Joe was straining against his boxers. He mouthed up his length, coming to rest at the tip where he sucked it into his mouth, wetting the material thoroughly and pressing his tongue hard against Joe’s cock. He looked up at Joe in surprise, and Joe resisted the urge to laugh.

“Do you have-?” Nicky asked.

“I do.”

Nicky’s hands moved to where his mouth had been just seconds before, his fingers dancing across the tip of Joe’s cock, probing the barbell piercing there. After what felt like an age of careful exploration Nicky curled his fingers into the waistband of Joe’s underwear, pulling the boxers down and off his legs. He settled back on his heels and studied Joe’s cock with a look of reverence that set a tremor running through Joe’s entire body.

“Is there anything I can’t do?” he asked, reaching out to take Joe in his hand and gently thumb the lower sphere of the piercing. Joe shook his head.

“Just don’t tug too hard.” He said. “But I can take it out if you’d prefer.”

This time Nicky shook his head, then he leant in and licked from the bottom of the barbell to the top. He moved his lips slowly around the head, tongue darting out to taste, to feel, and every little movement felt like heaven to Joe. When Nicky took the entire tip into his mouth and sucked Joe’s hands scrabbled uselessly on the sofa, instinctively aching for something to hold on to. Nicky pulled off with a wet sound and chuckled.

“I’ve barely started.” He said with a wicked grin. “But if you need something to hold on to…” he ducked his head down again and nosed down Joe’s cock until he was pressing kisses around the base, then blindly reached out to take a hold of one of Joe’s hands and placed it in his hair. Nicky’s hair was fairly short, but there was still enough length for Joe to run his fingers through and gather up a handful. Joe would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this moment numerous times, but the reality of having Nicky _there_ , actually touching him, was a thousand times better.

He moaned slightly as Nicky moved further down still in order to lap and suck at Joe’s balls, Joe’s fingers reflexively clenching and relaxing, not forcing Nicky’s head in any way, but simply holding on. Nicky methodically worked his way back up Joe’s length then probed his tongue into the slit, teasing the piercing there before taking it between his teeth and tugging oh so lightly. Joe groaned, and couldn’t stop his hips from jerking slightly upward at the sensation. His hands fell from Nicky’s hair and he closed his eyes as Nicky tugged again, then hollowed his cheeks and sucked.

Nicky bobbed his head down and took Joe back into his mouth properly, turning his head slightly so Joe’s length bulged his cheek, then slowly moved away causing the head of Joe’s cock to slide along his cheek before popping out of his mouth. Nicky grinned at the noise Joe couldn’t help but make at the sight, then repeated the motion. This time, instead of letting Joe fall back out of his mouth Nicky relaxed his throat and pressed forward, taking Joe further and further until his nose was pressed against Joe’s belly and all Joe could think about was the incredible sensation of Nicky oh so hot and tight around him.

When Nicky pulled off he picked up Joe’s hand from where it had fallen onto the sofa and brought it back to his hair, his clear eyes gazing intently up at him as he did so. He sank back down onto Joe, swallowing him to the root, then waited. Joe tightened his fingers into Nicky’s locks and pulled with enough force to guide Nicky back up and off him, before bringing him back down again. Nicky hummed his approval and Joe moaned, the vibrations from Nicky’s hum combined with the sensation of his piercing gliding against the back of Nicky’s throat almost too much to handle. It was incredible, both the feeling of Nicky all around him and the goddamn _sight_ of Nicky on his knees, eyes closing in bliss as he worked Joe’s cock.

“I won’t last.” Joe warned with a gasp as he lifted Nicky’s head and brought it back down again a couple more times. Nicky didn’t respond, save for taking Joe’s other hand and bringing it to rest alongside his first, giving Joe even more control over his movements. Nicky’s own hands disappeared out of view, and as he shifted slightly against Joe he knew Nicky was stroking himself, getting off on the taste of having Joe in his mouth. The realisation only served to bring Joe closer to the edge.

“Fuck.” Joe groaned as he thrust up into Nicky’s welcoming warmth, his lover swallowing down everything Joe offered him.

“Fuck.” Joe said again, his hips losing any sort of control in favour of jerking shallowly into Nicky’s mouth. “Tap… tap if you want me to pull out.” He managed to breathe out as he felt himself being drawn closer and closer to his peak. Nicky didn’t move his hands an inch, and instead moaned around Joe’s cock and just like that Joe was done. He pushed in one last time and came deep down Nicky’s throat, every inch of him alight with sparks that coursed through his body. He let go of Nicky’s hair and pulled out, struggling to get his breath back as he dimly registered Nicky’s hands frantically working his own cock.

“Hey, let me.” He tried, but Nicky shook his head, pressing his face against Joe’s softening cock and swiping his tongue across the tip for one last taste before he too was coming, his groan muffled.

Nicky rested his head in Joe’s lap for a moment then huffed out a laugh, raising his head to meet Joe’s eyes. Joe’s heartbeat had been finally returning to normal, but as Nicky looked up at him he felt it quicken again. He was overcome with the urge to kiss him, and beckoned him back up to join him on the sofa. He could taste himself on Nicky’s tongue, and if he could get hard again so soon that realisation would have done it. Instead, they just kissed for a while longer, until Nicky withdrew with a grimace and announced that he should probably change clothes.

One change of clothes, another beer, and a half hearted attempt to watch Midsomer Murders later Joe found himself upstairs in Nicky’s bathroom, changing into a spare pair of flannel pyjama trousers. He had offered to go home of course, unwilling to overstay his welcome, but Nicky had rolled his eyes and said he wasn’t going to kick Joe out into the street on such a chilly night. He brushed his teeth with his finger then ambled into the bedroom, dropping face down onto the bed with an appreciative sigh. Nicky's bed was _comfy_.

As he did Nicky let out a huff of surprise, and Joe felt his fingers lightly trace the scimitar tattoo that stretched down his whole back. He realised this must have been the first time Nicky had seen it, as when he had been shirtless earlier his back had been firmly pressed against the sofa.

“Why are all your tattoos hidden?” Nicky asked him, before bending down and pressing a kiss right at the top of the hilt, just at the base of Joe’s neck.

“I don’t rightly know.” Joe said, smiling into the pillow as Nicky started to kiss down the outline of the blade. “It just turned out that way. The poems definitely I wanted somewhere not everyone would see, but the others… The first one I got, Aquila, I wanted it over my heart. Then the scimitar was either going to be on my back or along my forearm, but I decided I wanted it big. I guess my leg tattoo is visible, but only when I’m wearing shorts.”

“They’re so beautiful.” Nicky said reverently. “It’s a shame no one else gets to see them.”

“That’s true.” Joe chuckled. “But I like that only a select few get that honour. You’re privileged, really.”

“I know.” Nicky said softly as he dug his thumbs into the divots in the small of Joe’s back, massaging the muscles there.

“I’m young yet though,” Joe mused aloud, “and I have many ideas for more tattoos. Maybe I’ll get the next one on my arm. Or my face.”

Nicky responded to that joke by administering a slap to Joe’s arse, not hard enough to sting, but enough to make his point. Hard enough to make his point, and enough that Joe instinctively jerked his hips into the mattress, his cock twitching with renewed interest.

“Ah.” Nicky said, with the air of someone who’d just figured out a particularly tricky crossword clue. “So it’s like that?”

“Might be.” Joe said archly. “Try it again.”

Nicky brought his hand down again, slightly sharper this time, and Joe exhaled and dragged his cock against the sheets.

“Can you go again?” Nicky asked as his hand made contact a third time, and oh, he’d done this before. Just the right amount of sting but not enough to cause any lasting discomfort.

“Might not be able to go all the way.” He admitted, shifting so that he was knelt up on hands and knees, presenting himself to Nicky. “But I can certainly enjoy this.”

“Good.” Nicky said, running soothing circles over Joe’s reddening skin. “We’ll play it by ear then, shall we?”  
Joe eagerly nodded, and gave himself over to Nicky’s hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss schawarma. I also miss my grandma who once decided to tell me that she "got in with the forgery crowd" when she was living in Lebanon and they gave her a fake driver's licence. She told me this whilst in a car with me. Nicky and Joe went to a Lebanese restaurant for you, Gma.  
> Come talk to me on tumblr @tobebbanburg if you too have a grandma who absolutely should not be legal to drive in the UK.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the night before, and sleepy Joe is back. Most of this chapter is porn, but that's the way it be sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another spicy chapter lads. If that's not your cup of tea, turn away when Nicky turns away from the lasagna.

Joe wouldn’t describe his relationship with religion as complicated: far from it, in fact. He knew exactly where he stood. Yes, he was slowly covering himself in tattoos, and yes he had imbibed half a bottle of wine and a couple of beers last night, but he still woke up at 5:30am to sneak into Nicky’s bathroom and wash himself before Fajr.

Nicky had barely stirred when Joe had left, but when he returned he found Nicky sat upright in bed, checking his phone with a concerned look on his face.

“Sorry, I hoped I wouldn’t wake you.” Joe said in a low voice as he fumbled his way across the dark bedroom and back into the bed, Nicky’s phone the only light in the room.

“It’s alright.” Nicky told him, waiting until Joe was safely back under the covers before turning his phone back off. Joe settled himself under the duvet and scooted up to Nicky, wrapping his arms round him and burrowing his face into the back of his neck.

“I should have warned you before we went to sleep, I just forgot.” Joe mumbled as he breathed in Nicky’s scent. There was something so comforting about it already, and he could feel himself easily slipping back to sleep. Or at least he would, if Nicky weren’t talking to him. Joe clung on to consciousness to hear what he had to say.

“Warned me that you like to go walkabouts in the early hours of the morning?” Nicky asked lightly, his fingers tracing patterns along Joe’s bare arms. Joe huffed a laugh into Nicky’s neck.

“Warned you I have to get up before dawn to pray.”

“Ah, I didn’t realise you were Muslim.” Nicky sounded honestly surprised. Joe snorted.

“I know, it’s the tattoos. And the drinking. My mother, bless her, is still not entirely happy with it all, but religion is different for everyone.”

“I understand.” Nicky said, pausing for a moment before asking: “Do you keep halal then?”

“Besides the alcohol, yes.” Joe yawned.

“Ramadan?”

“More or less.”

“Eid?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good to know.” Nicky said, almost to himself. Joe could practically hear the cogs in his brain turning.

“Are you planning ahead, Nicolò?” He teased.

“Always.” Nicky replied.

“Good.” Joe murmured. “I want this to be more than just a couple of dates.”

“Me too.” Nicky said softly.

He fell silent then, and Joe drifted back off to sleep in no time, carried off into his dreams by the thoughts of future dates with Nicky. When he next woke, a couple of hours later, Nicky was prising himself from Joe’s grip and getting up out of bed. Joe instinctively rolled over into the spot he vacated, enjoying the lingering heat that clung to the pillow and sheets. It was so much more cosy than lying in his own warmed up spot of duvet, and he happily buried his face into the pillow.

He was dimly aware of Nicky washing and dressing, and drifted in and out of sleep as Nicky padded around the room, trying his very best to be quiet. Joe appreciated that no end. The only time Nicky made a noise was to bend and kiss him on the forehead, and to tell him that he was going to post his house keys through the letterbox when he left and he'd appreciate it greatly if Joe could lock up when he left.

Joe went back to sleep.

The third time he woke up was due to his alarm, and at that he did drag himself out of bed and into clothes. Well, into Nicky’s clothes to be precise, into clean underwear and a fresh tshirt. It just wouldn’t be right for him to see his clients wearing dirty clothes he reasoned, and he had been blessed with a lover who was of a similar size and he’d be foolish not to take advantage of that. The tshirt was an inoffensive blue, but it smelt of Nicky’s laundry tabs and was as soft as the sheets Joe had fallen asleep in. He checked his phone as he dressed, noting the three messages from Nicky with a grin.

_8:47- Hope you slept well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you fancy breakfast before you leave._

_8:49- You'll want to take the 12 then change to the 63 at Haymarket if you're planning on taking the bus, the 63 stops by The Old Guard_

_8:59- Also I had a great night, sorry, I should have started with that. Thank you x_

The single 'x' at the end meant everything to Joe. He typed out a reply as he waited for the bus, and signed off with 'xx', just to one-up Nicky.

His journey to work was slow, hampered by his unfamiliarity with the bus timetables around Nicky’s end of town, but Joe barely noticed. He kept replaying the events of the night before over and over in his mind: Nicky’s soft laugh as he listened to Joe’s stories, the way he’d curled up against him on the sofa to watch TV, their bodies fitting together so well. The way he’d mouthed and sucked at Joe’s cock as though he’d been waiting his whole life for that one moment… Joe hastily tried to think of something else, anything else, as the bus was not the place for those sorts of thoughts. He was saved from any more potentially disastrous thoughts by running into Booker when he got off his bus, who was, like Joe, more focused on getting an injection of caffeine as soon as possible before opening up shop.

The Terrarium Cafe was always quiet on Sundays, and when they arrived the shop was empty apart from two older ladies sharing a cake in one corner, and Nile sat at a table covered in books and papers in another. Nicky was hiding out of sight in the store room, but came out when the bell above the door announced their arrival. He smiled when he saw Joe, that small, slight smile of his that was only really there if you knew to look for it, and Joe’s heart jumped as though feeling the effects of the coffee he was yet to have.

Booker, on the other hand, was less affected by the vision that was Nicky with a vase of tulips in his hands and headed straight for Nile, sitting down opposite her and rummaging through his satchel for something. He brought out a book and held it out to her:

“This got donated the other day, I thought you might like it.”

Nile looked up from her work and read the title, then grinned and took it from Booker’s hands.

“’Art History and Class Struggle’? Amazing, this will help me so much with my Post Modern module.” She said, already flipping through the pages.

“I know.” Booker said with one of his rare smiles, his eyes soft as he watched Nile eagerly thumb through the book. It was like Nicky and Joe weren’t even there. Joe met Nicky’s eyes above their heads and raised an eyebrow, and Nicky shrugged in response.

“How much do you want for it?” Nile asked.

“Don’t worry about it, it wouldn’t sell for much anyways.” Booker’s voice was gruff, and he had to cough to clear it.

“Well thank you all the same.” Nile said. “We’ll give you your coffee on the house today, won’t we, Nicky?”

“Just this once.” Nicky agreed amicably.

“Hold on there, if Booker gets a free coffee then what do I have to do to get one?” Joe said.

“Flirt with one of the staff by the looks of things.” Nicky said dryly. Booker suddenly looked as if he were about to be sick. Nile threw one of her pens at Nicky, hitting him square in the chest.

“I can do that.” Joe turned to look over at Nile. “Nile, those earrings are marvellous, very Frida Kahlo.”

Nile grinned and pretended to swoon as Nicky gave a snort of annoyance. Joe laughed.

“I’m sorry, Nicky. You’re looking wonderful today too, of course. I know I saw you barely a couple of hours ago but my heart could not bear to stay another minute away from your beauty. Let me bask in the warmth of your kindness, let me cool myself in the ice of your eyes, let me-“

“Alright alright, you’ve more than earned your coffee.” Nicky snorted, turning quickly away to his coffee machine to hide the flush that Joe could see spreading across his cheeks.

“Saw him a couple of hours ago huh?” Booker muttered to Joe, sounding impressed. “Never known Nicky to put out on the first date before.”

“Nile,” Nicky said clearly, his back still turned to the others, “Do you want to give me the £2.30 for Booker’s coffee now, or should I take it from your tips?”

Joe laughed as Nile smacked Booker on the arm. It was interesting watching them both. He had always assumed Booker’s feelings for Nile were one-sided (and from what Booker had drunkenly told him, so did he), but it did seem as though Nile was at least interested… He’d ask Nicky about it later.

“You’re wearing my tshirt.” Nicky remarked as he handed Joe’s coffee over. Not a complaint, just an observation.

“I am.” Joe said. “Why, would you like it back? I can return it now if you like.” He pulled the hem of the shirt up slowly, enjoying how Nicky’s face went from shocked, to interested, and back to shocked again.

“Not in the shop.” He pleaded, and Joe laughed and dropped the hem. He hadn’t really been about to take his shirt off, not with the two women in the corner anyways, but he wasn’t beyond teasing Nicky a little.

“Alright, not in the shop then. But elsewhere?” he probed.

“Yes of course elsewhere.”

“Where?”

Nicky studied him for a moment, those beautiful eyes of his giving nothing away as he thought.

“Well, you’ve seen my place. I think it’s only fair I see yours.” He said after a moment. “If you’re agreeable, of course.”

“Oh I am. Very agreeable.” Joe said, then decided that even if taking tshirts off wasn’t permitted Nicky had said nothing on the subject of kisses, and so leant in to do just that. Less than a minute later he was spritzed in the ear by Nile with her trusty water bottle and pulled away, laughing at the outraged expression on Nicky’s face.

“I’ll see you later.” He said, blowing a kiss to Nicky as he left in order to avoid Nile’s ire. It didn’t matter. He would kiss Nicky again soon enough.

*****

Their second date did indeed take place at Joe’s flat, starting out with a take-away and film on his sofa and ending in Joe’s bed, wrapped around each other head to toe as Joe had pointed out that they were the right heights to make that particular activity work well (he was right). For their third date Nicky skipped the formalities of dinner, and kept Joe hard and waiting for nearly an hour, using his mouth to keep Joe right on the edge in between translating the other poem on his leg in snatches with the help of an old Arabic dictionary he’d found in Booker’s shop. As Nicky had reasoned, if Joe was going to be an ass and make him translate the poem himself, he was damn well going to be an ass and string Joe along while he did so.

“ _I need no port for shelter, nor stars to guide my way_  
_I need no anchor to ground me, nor wind to spur me on_  
_For you are all those to me and more_  
_Everything_  
_And more_ ”

He read his translation aloud when he had finally finished, looking up at Joe expectantly.

“Very good.” Joe managed to get out, his hips jerking as Nicky idly flicked at his piercing with his tongue. He’d become mostly incoherent around the 20 minute mark, and Nicky was impressed he still had the capacity for speech at this point.

“Who wrote it?” he asked, knowing it would take all of Joe’s strength to answer.

“My... my grandfather. He was a merchant, a sailor and... oh Nicky _please_.”

“Very well.” Nicky said, taking pity on him and tossing the dictionary completely aside in order to turn his attention to finally letting Joe come.

Their fourth date occurred the day of Booker’s grand opening. Nicky had invited Joe round for dinner before they left for Booker’s party with the intention of coaxing Joe into helping him cook a lasagna then relaxing in front of the TV for an hour or so. Joe, however, had other plans. He played along with Nicky happily enough to start with, dutifully chopping onions and helping to layer the pasta sheets up, but when it came to what Nicky privately called “Midsomer Murders and chill” he decided to take control of the evening.

Instead of sitting on the sofa next to Nicky, Joe crawled into his lap, placing his legs on either side of Nicky’s and settling down. Nicky set his beer down and brought his hands up to cup Joe’s arse, methodically massaging the muscles there. It wasn’t where he had expected Joe to sit, but the surprise was more than welcome. He tilted his head up, anticipating the kiss that Joe would place on his lips and was pleased when his assumptions proved correct: Joe had no sooner sat down than he had took Nicky’s lips with his own, his tongue coaxing Nicky’s into action and deepening the kiss instantly.

It was a rough kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, and Nicky began to suspect Joe had had this all planned out in his mind.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Joe asked as he ground down against Nicky, prompting him to release a shaky breath. He leant in close so that his lips were almost tickling Nicky’s ears. “I thought this might happen, so I took the liberty of preparing myself.”

“You _thought_ this might happen.” Nicky said with a smile. “You’re the one who started this.”

“Semantics.” Joe said airily. “And you’re missing the point.” He leant back a bit, shifting so that his arse rubbed ever so slightly against Nicky’s growing hardness.

“Ah.” Nicky said, his hands tightening their grip around Joe.

“Shall we?” Joe prompted, rolling his hips again, harder this time. Nicky struggled beneath him for a moment as he worked his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, retrieving his phone and checking the timer.

“We have 40 minutes.” He told Joe.

“Plenty of time.” Joe grinned and stood up, holding his hands out to Nicky to pull him up to join him.

“If that alarm goes off though I’m stopping everything.” Nicky said sincerely as he followed Joe to the bedroom. “I’ve never burnt a lasagna before and I’m not about to start now.” Most men would have thought Nicky a fool. Nicky’s nonna would have considered him worthy of canonisation for taking such a stance.

Joe laughed as he let himself fall backwards onto the bed, spreading his legs to allow Nicky to slot himself between them.

“Nicky, I promise you: once you’re inside me dinner will be the last thing on your mind.”

“Promises promises.” Nicky muttered as he bent down to kiss the junction of Joe’s neck, trying his best to suck a mark there.

They stripped quickly, hands and lips falling into the familiar patterns of stroking and sucking. It had been only a short while since they had got together, but Nicky was a fast learner and already knew how Joe liked to be touched, what he needed to be reduced to a panting, writhing mess under Nicky’s hands. The ever ticking threat of the timer might have helped to spur them on too, and soon Joe was on hands and knees on Nicky’s bed, holding himself open for Nicky in a way that made Nicky almost forget his own name.

He knew they had little time for this, but the sight of Joe spread out for him, so needy and impatient made it impossible to resist. He leant in and swiped his tongue over Joe’s entrance, savouring the faint taste of soap overlaid with something so undeniably _Joe_. Joe’s legs twitched a little, and Nicky couldn’t resist another lick, this time pointing his tongue and pushing ever so slightly against the tight ring of muscle. He reluctantly pulled away before he could get too caught up in the sensation of Joe against his tongue, and Joe made a small noise of disappointment when he did.

“It’s a shame we don’t have time for that now.” Nicky said, instead reaching across the bed to pull open a draw and root through it for his lube.

Joe muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like he was cursing himself for initiating things when they were so short on time, but Nicky didn’t mind too much: he knew this was something they’d both be eager to revisit at a later date. When Nicky returned his attention to Joe it was with a slick finger rather than his tongue, and Joe’s curses were replaced with soft moans and stuttering breaths.

“So good. You’re so good for me, Joe.” Nicky murmured as he carefully scissored his fingers inside, taking his time despite the countdown they were working against. Joe’s breath hitched at the praise, and Nicky filed that information away for use at another time. When Joe was well stretched around his fingers Nicky started thrusting, searching for something deep inside Joe and when he found it he was rewarded by Joe gasping, his whole body tensing for a short instant.

“There.” Joe gasped, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him as Nicky rubbed across the spot again. Nicky chuckled and ducked his head down to mouth at the base of Joe’s spine as he continued to thrust his fingers, Joe pushing back against him more and more with every thrust.

“Do you need another?” Nicky asked him, pausing in his assault to draw back and look at Joe. Joe turned his head to look back at him, eyeing where Nicky’s cock hung heavy between his legs as though assessing it.

“One more,” he decided, “but dammit Nicky, I need you in me soon otherwise I’m going to combust.”

Nicky obliged, adding his ring finger to the mix and carefully stretching Joe out until neither of them could wait any longer. Joe turned over onto his back as Nicky busied himself with a condom, and started idly stroking himself as he waited for Nicky to return to him. Nicky found himself captivated by the sight, transfixed as he watched the tip of Joe’s cock vanish and reappear as he worked his hand, the metal of his piercing glinting in the most tantalising way. The novelty of it hadn’t worn off yet, and Nicky hoped Joe would want to finish in his mouth that night.

“Nicolò, aren’t we supposed to be racing against the clock?” Joe teased him as he caught Nicky watching, his hand still keeping up its slow glide up and down his length.

Nicky climbed onto the bed between Joe’s legs and took a hold of his hand, stilling its movements but not making an effort to move it away.

“You have a choice, _Yusuf_.” He said, hoping hearing his full name would have the same effect on Joe as it did him. Judging by the hitch in Joe’s breathing he was right. He nudged Joe’s legs slightly further apart and lined himself up, the head of his cock just pressing against Joe’s entrance. “You can come whenever you want, but you’ll have to use your own hand. Or you can wait until I decide, and come with my mouth around you.”

As quick as a flash Joe removed his hand from around his cock, reaching both hands up to fold them under the pillow beneath his head.

“Good choice.” Nicky told him, and pushed in.

He was glad they’d spent the extra few minutes on prep, as even with that Joe was ridiculously tight around him. He urged Nicky on and into him with legs wrapped around his back, pulling him further and further in until Nicky was seated deep inside him, their chests almost touching as he leant over Joe.

“Good?” he asked, searching Joe’s eyes for any sign of discomfort. Joe replied by removing his hands from under the pillow and using them to pull Nicky’s face towards his, kissing him until they were both breathless. Well. That answered that.

Nicky started rolling his hips, gently at first, then with more force at Joe’s insistence. Joe kept his legs wrapped tight around Nicky, using them as leverage to bring himself up to meet each of Nicky’s thrusts. Everything about it was perfect, from Joe’s half-closed eyes and quiet groans to the wonderful feeling of Joe’s tight heat around him, and Nicky closed his own eyes in an attempt to distract himself and prevent things from ending too soon.

“Need... need you deeper.” Joe managed to get out in between groans, and Nicky pulled out in an instant, rolling Joe over onto hands and knees and pushing back into him before Joe could even register the loss. He slowly pulled back out until only the tip remained inside, and though as tempting as it was to chase Joe’s retreating heat Nicky forced himself to stay still, and was rewarded an instant later by Joe pushing back onto him. Nicky let them carry on for a while like that, content to stay as unmoving as a statue while Joe rocked back and forwards on cock, using Nicky’s body to chase his own pleasure.

He would have let it last longer, but the ever present threat of burning the lasagna won out and Nicky soon took back control, grabbing a hold of Joe’s hips and pulling him back to meet each of Nicky’s thrusts. He shifted a little each time, searching for that one angle that would send Joe wild, and when he found it he fucked into Joe with abandon, Joe’s cries of pleasure conspiring to pull him closer and closer to his release as he drove himself into that perfect heat. Eventually he lost his rhythm, his hips jerking once, twice, and once more before his orgasm was pulled from him, his eyes seeing stars as he lost himself in Joe.

He pulled out and gave himself a minute to rid himself of the condom, giving himself a chance to catch his breath before turning his attention back to Joe. Joe had rolled onto his back and was resolutely not touching himself, even though his cock was hard and aching to be touched.

“Well done.” Nicky said softly, dropping to his knees by the bed and pulling Joe towards him. He wasted no time in getting his mouth around Joe, sucking him down inch by inch and rolling his tongue against his piercing. One day, he wanted to discover what it would feel like as Joe fucked him, wondered if the barbell would feel as good for him as it clearly did for Joe. Joe didn’t last long, his whole body tensing and his fingers pulling the sheets up into bunches as he spilt in Nicky’s mouth.

“Good.” Nicky murmured as he made sure to lick Joe clean, then he crawled up onto the bed to lie next to Joe. Joe rolled onto his side to gently press his forehead against Nicky’s, his breath puffing out hot and hard between them.

“That was-” he started, only to be interrupted by Nicky’s alarm beeping.

“Excellent timing?” Nicky asked with a smirk as he pushed himself off the bed.

“I was just going to say excellent.” Joe grinned, and Nicky was almost prepared to let the lasagna burn for the sake of a few minutes of admiring Joe in his blissed out state. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever type out 'soup' instead of 'soap' and realise you have accidentally written one of the worst sentences ever?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Booker's grand opening! Or at least, as grand as anything Booker organised could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this story guys! All your kudos and comments have honestly been so damn appreciated. This is technically the last chapter, but I'll be posting a bonus E-rated chapter sometime soon hopefully. But for now... enjoy some pure fluff and happiness for these bois.

Joe had to admit that the lasagna almost (almost) would have been worth Nicky leaving him in the middle of sex for. It was incredible, but he was very glad Nicky hadn’t had to make an impossible choice. He wasn’t sure that he would like the answer.

Just as Nicky was stacking the plates up in his sink to wash later his phone rang. He answered it and put it on speaker, continuing to tidy up his kitchen as he answered.

“Andy, hi.” He said, taking Joe’s glass from him and adding it to the pile of washing.

“I don’t mean to panic you,” Andy’s voice came through the phone’s speaker in the calm tone of someone who was about to deliver some very panicking news, “But the caterer has crashed her van and we have no food for the opening.”

“Is she alright?” Nicky asked immediately, and Joe’s heart swelled several sizes at the concern in Nicky’s voice.

“The caterer? Yeah, she’s fine, but the food is a total write-off and we need food, Nicky. You can’t have an opening without food. Do you have anything in your shop suitable? We’ll pay, of course.”

“Let me think.” Nicky said. “Sorry, I’ll hand you over to Joe for a second.”

He pushed the phone over to Joe and scarpered off into his living room, returning with a pen and scrap of paper. He proceeded to stare blankly at it for a solid minute before beginning to scribble things down.

“Hey Joe.” Andy said conversationally, as if discovering there was no food only an hour before Booker’s grand opening was of no more concern than the mild threat of rain.

“Hey Andy.” Joe replied. “Are the drinks alright at least?”

“Of course.” Andy snorted. “I’m in charge of the drinks.” Somewhere in the background Quynh made an indignant noise.

“Sorry, _we’re_ in charge of the drinks. Is Nicky alright? He’s gone awfully silent.”

“Tutto bene.” Nicky muttered, crossing something he’d written out with several harsh black lines.

“Hard to say.” Joe said mildly before turning to Nicky. “Babe, I don’t speak Italian. Yet.”

“Babe.” Nicky repeated, his frown replaced by a smile for one glorious instant. Andy groaned over the phone.

“Nicky. Report.”

“I think if I stop at the shop on the way over I can put together some decent nibbles, but I’m worried about the vegans.”

“Nicky ignore the vegans, just focus on what you can do. You got any cakes? Any biscuits?”

Nicky nodded absently, already returning to stare at his list.

“He says yes.” Joe supplied. The intense look of Nicky lost in thought was ridiculously endearing, and it took all his effort to reply to Andy.

“Well. I’ll see you both soon. Thanks guys.” Andy hung up, and no sooner had she did then Nicky snapped his fingers and turned to Joe, his eyes bright.

“Bruschetta.”

“Bruschetta?”

“For the vegans.”

“Ah.”

*****

Nicky, Joe had learnt, was a man of two very precise halves. There was the Nicky he had first fallen for, the soft, easy to flush Nicky who volunteered at soup kitchens and was nervous as all hell about asking Joe out, and there was the Nicky he was currently working with now, the focused and unflappable Nicky who ordered Joe around the kitchen with the same methodical calmness as he did in the bedroom.

Joe wanted to share a blanket with the first Nicky, wanted to make him cups of tea and hold him close to his chest as they shared secrets and stories. Joe wanted the second Nicky to ignore all the mandated hygienic practices and take him up against the fridge. There was just something so captivating about watching him work, seeing him whirl about the kitchen as though moving to an unheard beat, chopping and measuring and mixing as though he were the calm in a centre of the storm.

“I’ve finished the bruschetta.” Joe called out, wiping his hands on a tea-towel. “What now?”

Nicky hummed, quickly looking round the kitchen and ticking things off on his fingers.

“I think that’s actually everything.” He said. “Would you mind running things across to Booker’s whilst I finish off in here?”

“Of course.” Joe carefully picked up the first platter of bruschetta, then just as carefully put it back down in order to nip across the kitchen and give Nicky a peck on the lips. “Back in a mo.”

People were just starting to arrive at Booker’s shop when Joe showed up, all mingling in the main room of the shop as the LGBT section was currently off limits, barricaded with a length of rainbow tape that Quynh had insisted Booker should cut through. Booker had insisted the room should just be open from the start. Nile had said it could be cute to have a little ceremony. Booker had relented.

Andy was stood by the door, ushering people in, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Joe.

“Perfect, right on time. Just put everything in the kids section will you, we’ve got a couple of tables in there.”

Joe tried to make his way through the shop, weaving around the guests as he tried not to tip the plate of bruschetta over, but was accosted on his way by several people.

“Joe, right?” A girl with long pink hair who he vaguely recognised from The Old Guard called out to him as he passed. “Jemima was just showing me the rosemary you did for her and wow. Do you work in colour too? Because I’ve been thinking of getting a sprig of lavender done.”

“Oh, this is _that_ Joe!” A man joined in excitedly. “Man, those arrows you did on Quynh were sweet as anything, respect.”

“Hey how much do you cost? Like, I know quality comes with a price, but like… what price.” Another man joined the crowd.

Joe was flattered, really, and would have been happy to talk about his work and prices at any other time, but right then he was holding a plate of food he was desperate to put down and he knew he had Nicky waiting for him back in the kitchen. He was saved from trying to make excuses by Nile, who was pushing her way through the small crowd towards him, a vision in gold.

“Alright alright.” She said, waving everyone out of her way with the glass of champagne clutched in her hand. “Let the man through, people, he’s got an important delivery.”

She escorted him through to the room at the back, where a couple of tables had been laid out in front of the children and teen sections of shelves.

“Everything all right?” She asked as he set his plate down. “I can always help if need be.”

“I think we’ve got it all under control actually. Well, Nicky has.” Joe replied with a smile. “We just need to carry it all through.”

“Alright. Just shout if you need an extra pair of hands. Or if you need rescuing again.” Nile gently touched his arm then left, sweeping back through the shop.

Joe hurried back to the shop to find Nicky already plating up more of the nibbles, and he dutifully picked up another plate and took it over to Booker’s. A couple of trips later and they were finally done, Nicky only just remembering to take his apron off before joining the party.

“Here.” Quynh pushed glasses of champagne into Joe and Nicky’s hands, then kissed them each on the cheek. “You deserve it, both of you. Lifesavers.”

“It’s alright.” Nicky said awkwardly, taking a drink of the champagne in an attempt to avoid having to say any more. The shop was full now, everyone milling around and waiting for the new section to finally open. Booker produced a pair of scissors from somewhere and ambled over to the door, but was stopped from simply cutting the ribbon by a cry from the crowd.

“Speech!” Someone, Andy, Joe thought, shouted at Booker. He sighed.

“Thank you to Andy and Quynh for forcing me to do this. I would not be here without your support and seemingly limitless supplies of alcohol. Thanks also to Nicky and Joe for stepping in and providing the food tonight. And thanks to Nile for being Nile... I mean, for being supportive and helping me get everything sorted for tonight. I couldn't have done it without you. Happy book buying I guess.”

He snipped through the rainbow ribbon and downed his glass of champagne as everyone applauded and rushed to look inside the new room. Joe and Nicky hung back to congratulate Booker: they had already seen the room, anyways.

“Well done.” Joe said, clapping Booker on the back. Booker grunted.

“I bet someone spills their drink on the books.” He said, glancing into the recently opened room with a dark expression on his face.

“It’s alright. Nile’s watching them.” Nicky said.

Nile was indeed stood in the corner of the room, laughing and joking with a couple of women Joe didn’t recognise, but also clearly keeping an eye on everyone in the room. Her eyes kept on sweeping over the crowd every few minutes, and Joe was certain the instant trouble started she would be putting an end to it.

The evening thankfully passed without anyone spilling anything, and Booker saw a steady stream of books pass out of his new room and into the bags and pockets of their new owners. The food was also a hit, Joe noticed with a small sense of relief, and he even overheard a couple discussing how pleased they were there were vegan options available. He tucked that nugget of information aside, meaning to tell Nicky later.

Nicky had disappeared a few minutes earlier, vanishing into the main room with Andy who was desperate to show him an old recipe book she’d found that apparently had a chocolate panettone in, and Joe stayed behind to show show Quynh Nile’s painting of Lesbos on the wall.

“This would be perfect for a back tattoo.” She breathed out, fingers tracing the poetry as she eyed it up exactly as he'd hoped. “Yes, Sappho is perhaps a tad overdone in our community, but there is good reason for that. And such lovely waves.”

“I’m sure Nile would be honoured if you did go for it.” Joe said, and Nile caught his eye and nodded eagerly.

They were soon rejoined by Nicky and Andy, Andy pushing the old recipe book she had found into Joe’s hands.

“Page 223. Ensure he makes it.” She said. She would have seemed more threatening if she hadn’t immediately thrown herself into Quynh’s arms once she was free of the book.

“Has she paid for this?” Joe checked with Nicky. Nicky shook his head with a smile, and Joe slotted the recipe book onto the nearest shelf. Booker would sort it later, he was sure.

Booker, oddly enough for his own opening night, had vanished completely by the time Joe and Nicky decided to call it a night.

“Where’s Booker?” Nicky asked Nile. “We should say goodbye.”

“He’s out back, having a breather. You know how he gets.” Nile said. “I’ll tell him you said ‘bye’, though, don’t worry.”

“Thanks Nile.” Joe leant in to kiss her on the head. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Nile.” Nicky added, giving her a hug.

They left Booker’s shop, Joe clutching Nicky tight to his chest as if it could help him ward off the cold. It made walking somewhat awkward, and they stumbled over each other’s feet several times, but neither of them cared. They stumbled to a stop at the end of the street and Joe tightened his grip around Nicky, unwilling to let him go even though continuing to walk down the main street in such a fashion would only end badly. Unbidden his stomach suddenly rumbled, and Nicky tried to lean back from him in mock disgust.

“Hungry? At this time of night?” he laughed.

“I was so busy mingling I forgot to have any of that delicious food you prepared.” Joe said.

“That _we_ prepared.” Nicky corrected with a smile.

“Sure.” Joe laughed. “And that lasagna, magnificent though it was, was so long ago now. I could really do with a snack before we head home.”

“Melted cheese on toast?” Nicky suggested, his smile now a full on grin. Joe returned his grin and leant in to kiss Nicky, just once, a promise of more to come.

“You read my mind.”

*****

Two years, one month, and fifteen days later Nicky and Joe broke the news of their engagement to their friends.

“Let’s see the rings. You do have rings, right?” Nile asked eagerly once the congratulations were out of the way, and she and Booker had gladly accepted their positions of best man/best woman.

“Of course.” Joe scoffed, taking a hold of Nicky’s hand and holding it out for everyone to look at. It was a rough looking ring, found from a little shop in Rome when they had gone on holiday there a month ago, with the words “carpe diem” etched into the surface. It didn’t look like much from first glances, but the band had a small hole in it that allowed sunlight to shine through and illuminate the numbers etched on the inside of the ring, letting it function as a rudimentary sundial. In a rare moment of poetry Nicky had once told Joe his smile was like the sun, brilliant and full of warmth and impossible to live without. Joe had never forgotten.

“No diamonds.” Quynh sniffed as she looked at it. “Joe, I thought better of you.” Her own engagement ring shone with three bright gems.

“I don’t care for diamonds.” Nicky said simply. He had never much cared for jewellery either, but the ring from Joe transcended fashion choices. It was understated, and personal, and tied to so many memories of Joe that Nicky doubted he would have minded even if it did have diamonds on.

“And look,” Joe eagerly showed off his own hand, “this is what Nicky chose for me. Isn’t it perfect? That’s the constellation of Orion: it’s still the only one he can recognise, even after years of me trying to teach him others.”

Joe’s own ring was sleeker, shinier, and Joe had been delighted when Nicky had run off to dig it out of his bag, moments after being proposed to himself. He might have cried a little as Nicky had slipped the ring onto his finger, his love’s face so full of joy and hope for the future that Joe’s heart hadn’t been able to contain the waves of emotion that tore through him.

“Well I think they’re both lovely.” Nile said earnestly. Booker just nodded his approval.

“More importantly, have you decided on a honeymoon destination yet?” Andy from where she had crammed herself into the booth alongside Nile and Booker.

“Malta.” Nicky supplied, from his own position wedged between Joe and Quynh. The Old Guard’s booths were not made for more than four fully grown adults.

“It was our first holiday together.” Joe elaborated, his hand reaching out across the table to rest lightly atop Nicky’s, his thumb rubbing the engagement ring absently. “There’s still a lot of places we want to go, things we want to see, but why risk something new on what’s going to be the happiest week of our lives?”

“Happiest two weeks.” Nicky corrected. One week just hadn’t seemed like enough.

“Two weeks.” Booker said wistfully.

“Will you do your own flowers for the wedding, Nicky?” Quynh asked him.

“As if he’d trust anyone else to do that.” Nile teased.

“Catering too?” Booker prompted. Nicky shook his head.

“I don’t think I need _that_ much added pressure.” He said, and Joe squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“And wedding tattoos?” Quynh asked Joe with a sly grin.

“Yes, I already have a design for matching tattoos for the groom and his best man.” Joe deadpanned, and a brief look of panic passed over Booker’s face before he realised Joe was joking.

“I’m going to get one.” Nicky announced, deciding that if today was a day for announcements he may as well broadcast his intentions to finally get a tattoo.

Despite dating a tattoo artist for over two years, Nicky had made it through the period completely unmarked. Nile had got a tattoo within a couple of months of Joe moving in, a beautifully simple outline of some orchids that ran along her upper arm, but the permanence somewhat concerned Nicky, and though he had plenty ideas for tattoos he had yet to commit to one.

Joe, by contrast, had gained two tattoos, one on each arm. Both, in some way, were to do with Nicky. The first tattoo he had got was a partial sleeve, extending from his wrist up to his elbow. It was a layered tattoo, with simple black outlines of a variety of flowers set above large blocks of green that continued the shape of the flowers, curving and twisting in a way reminiscent of foliage. Around his wrist and just below his elbow the sleeve was bordered by geometric tiles patterned in the same black and green. It was unlike any tattoo Nicky had seen before, and he loved it. Joe had been inspired to get it after a long weekend they had spent in Marrakesh, visiting the Majorelle Garden.

Joe’s other tattoo lay along his inner arm, and depicted a geometric, shaded rendition of the phases of the moon. When Nicky had called Joe his sun, Joe had taken the analogy and run with it. He had declared that if he were the sun then Nicky was moon, his only light in a dark world (and made of cheese, he had added with a laugh after another of their numerous late night snacks).

At Nicky’s declaration Joe turned to him, a look of wonder on his face.

“Really? Habibi, don’t think you need to do this because of me.”

“No, I want this.” Nicky reassured him.

“What do you want? Do you trust me to do it?”

"Of course!" Nicky couldn't even think about letting anyone other than Joe tattoo him. “And I’m going to get a string of ivy, round my wrist.”

“Oh lovely!” Nile enthused, and Quynh echoed her sentiment. Andy and Booker seemed nonplussed, but Joe’s face broke open into one of his wide smiles, his crinkling in the same way that had stolen Nicky’s breath all those years ago.

“Ivy.” He breathed. “Nicolò, you beautiful _perfect_ man.”

“What’s so special about ivy?” Andy asked.

“Victorian flower language.” Nicky supplied. “It represents marriage, and fidelity, and undying affection.”

“Perfect.” Joe repeated, and Nicky was so caught up in the earnestness in his voice, in the deep love shining through his eyes, that he barely registered Nile’s cry of recognition, or Booker’s groan. For a few short seconds all that mattered was Joe, the most wonderful man he could ever have imagined, and they had their wedding and their friends and Malta and ink and ivy, and everything was just _perfect_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks!  
> Apart from... bonus Malta honeymoon chapter? Coming soon, and it's gonna be spicy (all you people saying you wanted more sexy times... you've done it, damn you. You've made me add another chapter).
> 
> Btw ring inspirations from here (only cleaner, lol): https://www.flickr.com/photos/janosgaborvarga/7421863504/  
> And here: https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcRSq_BLBD9KU8Qx7iKAHelR2pA67f6i_RK4wg&usqp=CAU
> 
> And Joe’s flower tattoo inspiration: https://www.amazingtattooideas.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Botanical-Forearm-Sleeve-Tattoo.jpg


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's honeymoon time bebe. These idiots paid for a fortnight in Malta and the only sights they've seen so far have been each other.

It was almost a shame they’d gone to Malta for their honeymoon. In the four days they had been there they hadn’t done nearly as much as they had on their first holiday there, swapping the sight-seeing and dining out for spending quality time together as newlyweds. Alone. Very naked.

It didn’t matter too much: they had two weeks there, after all, and Nicky was certain their rediscovery of each other’s bodies wouldn’t last the full fortnight. The city and beaches could wait. They could not.

“So,” Nicky said on the fifth morning, emerging from the bathroom and taking the towel away from his waist to dry his hair with in a pointed display of nonchalance, “what would you like to do this morning?” He dropped the towel on the floor, leaving him stood fully naked in front of his husband. They’d been together three years now, but Nicky still got a thrill from the way Joe’s eyes raked over him, lingering on where his cock hung already half hard between his legs; Nicky might have got a little carried away in the shower once he had finished cleaning himself.

“I have an idea or two.” Joe said, rising from the bed only to guide Nicky down to lie on it. “Just one moment, habibi, I’ll be right back with you.”

Nicky settled himself on the bed, idly stroking his cock as he wondered what Joe had gone to retrieve. The ropes, perhaps? They hadn’t made an appearance yet, and the headboard of the bed was perfect for them. He was not expecting Joe to come back with what looked like a child’s set of coloured pens, and though he hoped from a distance that maybe he was mistaken and Joe had purchased a set of slim multi-coloured vibrators, he was soon disappointed to find out that they were in fact, just pens.

“An extra wedding present from Nile. Temporary tattoo pens.” Joe explained as he tore the packet open, scattering pens everywhere.

“They are _not_ going inside me.” Nicky warned, and Joe laughed.

“You’re such a lovely canvas all spread out for me, Nicolò,” he said, picking up the pens and moving to sit on the bed, “please, indulge me in this for a moment. Let me paint my love for you onto your skin, let me write poetry across your heart. I want to see you lying here covered in my work, a living, breathing masterpiece to display the depths of my passion for you.”

“Well.” Nicky said, his throat dry. How could he say no to that? Joe had a way not just with words themselves but with the way he said them, in a way that left Nicky in no doubt about the earnestness behind them.

“And then I’ll fuck you until you’re unable to walk.” Joe added, a crass contrast to his earlier prose.

“Well.” Nicky said again, this time with a half-smile forming on his face. “How do you want me?”

Joe wanted him just the way he already was, and started work on Nicky’s right arm, where his delicate ivy tattoo circled his wrist. He extended the ivy, drawing it up and along Nicky’s arm, and then added colourful flowers peeking out from between the strands. Nicky watched in silence. He loved watching Joe work, loved the way his brow would crinkle in concentration only to smooth out again in satisfaction as he looked at his work.

Once Joe had finished Nicky’s right arm he moved across and drew a similar pattern on his left. Nicky started to pick out the flowers Joe was drawing: a red rose in the crook of his elbow, a striped tulip curling around his shoulder, a green carnation shedding its petals down his hand. All flowers that brought him back to the time when he and Joe had danced around each other all those years ago. He couldn't help but smile as he watched them take shape on his skin.

“Done?” Nicky asked when Joe finished his other arm.

“Not even close.” Joe grinned.

Nicky’s torso came next, Joe covering the space over his heart with flowing Arabic text that Nicky couldn’t quite make out from upside down. A poem, he guessed, though whether it was from a poet he recognised or straight from Joe’s mind he didn’t know. Joe sketched in-between the lines and blocks of text: peacock feathers, clocks, constellations… Nicky didn’t know if they were to do with the poetry or if Joe just liked them, but either way they were gorgeous.

Joe staunchly ignored Nicky’s cock where it now lay soft against his thigh, and instead moved down to begin work on his ankles. He drew layer upon layer of waves, hiding treasure ships and mythical monsters in between the foam and surf until he reached Nicky’s knees whereupon his inspiration shifted to the sky and he covered Nicky’s thighs in clouds and kites and old-fashioned hot air balloons.

“So beautiful.” Joe murmured as he sat back on his heels to look at his work so far.

“Of course it is, it’s your art.” Nicky gave a soft laugh.

“Would you mind if I took a picture?”

“Take a video if you like.” Nicky replied, remembering Joe’s promise for what was to come after the drawing.

“You’re incorrigible.” Joe smirked and leant in to press a chaste kiss to Nicky’s lips before reaching for his phone and taking several photos.

“I’m nearly done, my heart, but there’s one last thing I wish to draw. Would you mind rolling over for me?” Joe asked, and Nicky readily obliged, pillowing his head on his arms.

He felt Joe settle on his legs, then reach up with his pen and press the tip of it to the base of Nicky’s neck. Nicky closed his eyes and let himself relax, emptying his mind of everything bar the faint sound of the waves outside, and the reassuring pressure of Joe’s pen tracing lines over his back. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, or if he even fell asleep at one point, but after a while he felt Joe sit back, his work done.

“There we go.” Joe sounded incredibly pleased with himself, and Nicky came out of his relaxed state to hear Joe fumble for his phone and take another couple of photos.

“Let me see.” Nicky said, lifting his head up and twisting it round to see Joe’s phone.

Joe had good reason to be pleased with himself: he’d achieved with clumsy children’s pens and an uneven canvas what most painters could only aspire to. Nicky’s back was a vision, a flaming longsword stretching down his spine drawn as though it were a panel in a stained-glass window. The overall style was reminiscent of the churches of his youth, but the colours and patterns Joe had used were much more in line with classical Islamic aesthetic. Nicky felt a momentary twinge of sadness that the beautiful art, that _Joe’s_ beautiful art, would be washed away within the hour. Perhaps he would rethink his earlier conviction that the ivy would be the only tattoo he would get.

“What do you think?” Joe asked.

“I think it’s a shame such art has been wasted on something so temporary.” Nicky said honestly.

“Nonsense.” Joe replied, his hands starting to rub gentle circles up the backs of Nicky’s thighs. “Sometimes things that are only temporary are all the more beautiful because of it. Besides, I have photos.”

“All the same, I think I will ride you, to save your masterpiece from being smudged into the sheets.” Nicky said, delighting in how Joe’s thumbs pressed into his muscles just that little bit tighter at his words. “And I meant what I said about the video, too.” He added.

“The video... yes.” Joe’s voice was thick, and Nicky could feel the mattress shift beneath him as Joe climbed off the bed to set his phone up.

“And get the lube while you’re up.” Nicky said, settling his head back onto his hands as he waited. He knew how this would go: Joe would patiently and expertly open him up, taking his time as he always liked to when he had Nicky so relaxed and pliant, then Nicky would push Joe down onto the bed and ride him until his husband saw stars.

Soon enough Joe returned, and after cheekily asking Nicky to wave to the camera set about licking him open. Nicky sighed contentedly and pushed back ever so slightly onto Joe’s tongue, giving himself over to his husband’s wicked mouth. Joe’s beard was soft against his thighs, tickling him ever so slightly as Joe’s jaw worked against him. He himself always had to remember to shave before doing this to Joe, as his stubble was far harsher against the sensitive skin then the longer hairs of Joe’s beard.

Nicky let out a breath as after a while Joe pushed a finger in alongside his tongue, the digit pushing deeper inside him and making him want more.

“Joe.” Nicky said, his hips shallowly jerking against the mattress in the vain hope of relief. “Joe, please.”

“All in good time.” Joe soothed, withdrawing his finger entirely in order to suck at Nicky’s rim, his tongue tracing the circle of muscle briefly before delving back inside.

“Joe.” Nicky tried again. “ _Yusuf_.”

Joe chuckled, and replaced his tongue with two well-slicked fingers.

“My, Nicolò. It’s normally _me_ who’s begging for more. What a wonderful reversal of roles.”

“Cazzo.” Nicky tried to swear, but the word caught in his throat as Joe twisted his wrist _just so_ and it turned into a choke as his whole body tensed in a sudden jolt of pleasure. Joe’s two fingers were soon joined by a third, though still not soon enough for Nicky’s liking. There was taking things slowly and then there was _this_ , this endless teasing as Joe drew out his pleasure as long as he could. If Nicky were a weaker man he would have begged for Joe’s cock, pleaded for his love to end his torment and fuck him already. But he wasn’t.

Instead, Nicky scrambled to his knees, pulling away from Joe and pushing his husband down onto the sheets in his place before he could react.

“Stay.” Nicky ordered, seeing Joe begin to move, and Joe complied, a grin spreading across his face as he instead reached down to pump his own cock, coating it with the slick still clinging to his fingers.

“Better.” Nicky said, moving to hover above Joe once he deemed him ready and sinking down onto him in one smooth motion.

Joe felt as perfect inside him as always, so hot and hard and _there_ , his piercing slipping against Nicky’s entrance before popping inside, dragging against him in the most wonderful way.

Nicky rolled his hips once, slowly, making Joe bite back a moan, then repeated the motion. He kept his thrusts small, teasing, not quite enough for either of them, but especially not enough for Joe, who was almost whining and bucking up into Nicky as much as he could.

“No.” Nicky said calmly, stilling his movements completely after a particularly hard jerk from Joe’s hips. “You’ve had your fun with me, now it’s my turn.”

He reached down to run his hands down Joe’s chest, fingers stopping when they reached his nipples. Joe had got them pierced almost a year ago, and the novelty still hadn’t worn off for Nicky. He loved how he could make Joe keen or moan depending on how hard he tugged on them, how the right amount of pressure at the right time could help push Joe over edge.

He pulled on the hoops slightly, and as he’d hoped Joe gave a low moan and instinctively rolled his hips up and into Nicky.

“Sorry.” He gasped out, and Nicky swallowed his apology with a kiss.

“Shhh.” He said. “I know you can’t help it.”

He tugged on the rings again, and was rewarded with another sharp thrust from Joe. Nicky teased him like that for a while, alternating between playing with his piercings and kissing along his jawline, sucking bruises into the soft skin on Joe’s neck where his beard ended.

He slowly started to roll his hips again, timing his kisses and bites with his thrusts until he gave up his double-ended assault and focussed all his energy on riding Joe, his legs burning as he lifted him self up and down over and over again. Joe placed his hands on Nicky’s hips in an attempt to pull them even closer together, bring Nicky down onto his cock with every upward jerk of his hips until they were both breathless and nearing the edge.

“Wait.” Nicky panted, stopping his movements, and Joe stilled instantly, a brief look of concern flashing across his face before Nicky leant down and kissed it away.

He climbed off Joe and settled himself on hands and knees beside him, Joe taking less than a second to read his intentions and pull himself up to his knees too. Nicky loved it when he could look at Joe while they did this, loved how being able to look into Joe’s eyes and see the uninhibited expressions on his face helped make things even more intimate, but he also loved how Joe’s piercing rolled right against his prostate this way, sending sparks shooting down the length of his body as the smooth metal rubbed right _there_.

Perhaps they should do this in front a mirror sometime, and Nicky was a little surprised that the thought had never occurred to him before. It would be the best of both worlds, surely: being able to see the look of pleasure on Joe’s face as he pushed in as deep as he could go, but also being able to _feel_ him in the best way possible.

He told Joe his idea, and Joe swore, pulling Nicky back hard to meet his next thrust in a way that made him briefly close his eyes with the intensity of it.

“You can’t say things like that when I’m _inside_ you.” Joe grunted as he pumped hard into Nicky, each thrust angled so that his piercing passed right over Nicky’s prostate and made his toes curl.

“But,” Nicky panted, “it has such- ugh- wonderful results.”

Joe laughed, and picked up his pace even more. Nicky could tell when Joe was close, and sure enough his change in breathing and frantic rhythm were soon followed by Joe coming deep inside him, pushing once, twice more into him before coming to a stop.

Nicky collapsed onto his arms as Joe pulled out, mourning the loss of sensation until Joe replaced his cock with his fingers, gathering up his spend and pushing it back into Nicky.

“What do you need, tesoro?” Joe asked, fucking his fingers into Nicky in slow, measured thrusts. “This? My hand? My mouth?”

“This.” Nicky said, lazily pushing back against Joe’s hand. “Then your mouth.”

He let Joe continue for a while, enjoying the change in pace, but soon needed more. Joe realised as soon as Nicky started pushing back on him with greater and greater force, and pulled out completely in order to gather Nicky up into his arms.

“Here.” Joe threw Nicky down onto his back, both of them long past caring about messing up the artwork. He settled himself between Nicky’s legs and wasted no time in taking his aching cock into his mouth, his tongue expertly rolling against his length as he sucked him down. Nicky idly wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like if Joe had a tongue piercing, but even that thought was pushed from his mind as Joe brought him closer and closer to the edge until suddenly his came with a soft cry, spilling into Joe’s wonderful mouth.

They stayed where they were for a moment, Nicky absently running his fingers through Joe’s curls as they both caught their breath before Joe eventually heaved himself up to collapse onto the bed next to Nicky.

“Damn.” He said appreciatively, and Nicky had to agree. “You know, I _almost_ fetched the ropes, but I did enjoy this. Thank you.” He kissed the tulip on Nicky’s shoulder, then pushed himself up to place a kiss on his lips.

“Not at all. You may use me as a canvas any time, hayati.” Nicky said, pulling Joe back for another, deeper kiss. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing Joe, his _husband_ , not now or in a thousand years.

Joe grinned at him when they finally pulled apart, reaching out to push Nicky’s fringe back from his forehead.

“I love you.” Nicky said softly, feeling as though he was losing himself in Joe’s deep brown eyes.

“I love you too.” Joe replied, ducking down to brush against Nicky’s one last time.

“I love you so much, I’m going to let you shower first.” Nicky said, and Joe laughed.

“I had no idea I’d married such a romantic.” He joked as he stood up and stretched leisurely.

“Go on.” Nicky waved his hands. “Before I change my mind.”

Joe disappeared with a wink, and Nicky leant across the bed to take Joe’s phone and stop it recording. He played it back from the beginning, feeling himself flush a little at the sight of him laid out on the bed, Joe enthusiastically buried between his thighs. It was... certainly something they’d both be watching later, and Nicky had to admit there was something striking about seeing his own body covered in tattoos.

He handed the phone over to Joe for approval when he returned from the shower, and hopped in himself without waiting for the water to heat up. That was the real joy in showering second: there was no tedious waiting around for the hot water to arrive.

Nicky scrubbed himself up with soap, paying little attention to what he was doing as he methodically moved the flannel over himself. It took him a little while to realise that the ink wasn’t coming off. It wasn’t even smearing.

“Joe.” He called out, hoping he could be heard over the shower. No answer.

“Yusuf.” He tried, louder this time.

“Yes my heart?” Joe appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, the packet for the pens in his hands and a guilty look on his face. Nicky turned the shower off and sighed.

“It might be waterproof.” Joe said.

“Might.” Nicky repeated.

“It is waterproof.” Joe amended. “But make-up remover should be able to get it off, I can run to a pharmacist and you can stay here and-“

“I’ll come with you.” Nicky said, finding he didn’t actually mind his predicament. “Besides, other people should get to admire your work, no?”

Joe breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

“I’m sorry.” He said, moving forward to kiss Nicky then stopping, realising he was still soaking wet.

“Don’t be.” Nicky smiled, then took a step forward and pulled Joe into an embrace, thoroughly wetting his shirt and shorts. He kissed Joe on the cheek and pulled back, laughing at the face Joe made as he held his damp shirt away from his skin.

“We’re nearly even now.” Nicky said. “But just to even the score, I think I should get to draw one on you before we leave.”

Fifteen minutes later they left for the store hand in hand, Joe’s shirt sleeves rolled up to show off the tacky heart tattoo with the word “Nicolò” running through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks.
> 
> Thank you all so much for coming along with me on this journey, I appreciate it no end.
> 
> (Also if any of y'all ever come across any fan art of Joe or Nicky tattooed in any fashion, send it my way cos I've got a hankering now)
> 
> I'm on tumblr, as always, @tobebbanburg. Hit me up if you too have ever accidentally drawn on yourself in a pen that won't come off.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear: Joe is still very much Muslim in this, albeit not a strict one (on account of the tattoos). Nicky is still Catholic but hasn't actually set foot inside a church in forever.


End file.
